


vV '+* 



= •> ** 






** v «* 






J V - 







,0o. 






1 v- 











^ 


$ 


* 


./ 


% 
















0^ ?<%. 












A 



^ 






^ ^ 



*- X 










, 



^ -7% 



**/ S> 



K « 









^ 






^ '^ 



,$o 






: ^ * 8 '" ^ 



<*> * 












i*' 






• V 







.** 



'W 












■/ -^ 



-^ v* 






OO 



y . ^ 



6 ++ 





















\ 

1 

I 


















x -at- • 



-^ i 

A N " J I 



.0' 






C> V > 



V 



•<>. <P 






' ** 



& - 



< 






^ -n* 




































<^ 



'_ ' 



\ A 
























V- 


















<-0 




























































• 












/; 






q h 



,0 c 



CO 









r 




F.Salpon, s c . 



^c^C^y^S 



DocLd 



LECTURES 



MENTAL PHILOSOPHY AID THEOLOGY. 



JAMES RICHARDS, D.D., 

LATE PROFESSOR OF CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY, IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY AT 
AUBURN, NEW YORK. 



WITH A 



SKETCH OF HIS LIFE, 



SAMUEL H. GRIDLEY, 



NEW YORK: 



PUBLISHED BY M. W. DODD, 

Brick Church Chapel, opposite City Hall. 

1846. 



<% 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 
M. W. DODD, 

In the Office of the Clerk of the District Court, for the Southern District of the 
State of New York. 



EDWARD O . JENKINS, PRINTER, 

114 Nassau street. 



PREFACE 



Something, it is supposed, should be said by way of introducing 
the following- pages to the attention of the reader. In the first 
place, it perhaps ought to be stated, that however desirable it may 
be that some memorial of the Life and Character of Dr. Richards 
should be preserved, it is quite evident that nothing in the shape 
of biography was contemplated on his part. He kept no journal 
of his religious exercises, or of the important events of his life ; 
and his written allusions to his early history, made in later years, 
are, for the most part, incidental in their character. A single 
scrap found among his papers, containing a few dates relating to 
change of place, and reaching as far as to the time of his going to 
Auburn, is the only document put into the hands of the compiler, 
which seems to have been written with a design to perpetuate the 
remembrance of anything connected with his history. It is also 
proper to state, that of the benefit of his written correspondence, 
beyond the pale of his own family, the writer has been able to 
avail himself only in the most sparing manner. Other, therefore, 
have been the sources from which information has been mainly 
derived in the preparation of the Biographical Sketch. The recol- 
lections of early friends (including the surviving brothers and sisters 
of Dr. Richards) ; church records ; testimony of his parishioners 
when a pastor, and of his early associates in the Gospel ministry ; 
manuals of the churches of which he was pastor ; communications, 
written and verbal, from his colleagues in the Seminary at Auburn, 
and from alumni of the Seminary; the testimony of his own be- 
reaved family ; his correspondence with his children during the 



j v PREFACE. 

last thirty years of his life, and the personal knowledge of the 
Writer — these are the sources on which reliance has been placed. 
The compiler has taken great pains to furnish himself with facts, and 
has been careful to introduce nothing as fact, which has not seemed 
to be well sustained. He has visited the spot where the subject of 
his sketch was born, and passed the days of his childhood — con- 
versed with his surviving brethren and sisters — handled the church 
record in which his name was written when first entering into 
covenant with God and his people, and entered the dwelling and 
surveyed the premises where he prosecuted, in part, his prepara- 
tions for the Gospel ministry. 

The Lectures found in this volume, are published under the 
general direction of the three sons of Dr. Richards, though under 
the more immediate supervision of the youngest son, the Rev. 
James Richards, of Pen Yan, New York. They are now given 
to the press, in pursuance of earnest and repeated solicitations 
from ministers and others, and especially from the alumni of the 
Seminary, for whose benefit they were originally prepared. Two 
of them, namely, lectures " On the Prayer of Faith," were pub- 
lished several years since by request of the students of the institu- 
tion, and the last, " On Ability and Inability," was published as 
a sermon, while the author was a pastor. It is associated with the 
Lectures, and therefore receives the family name. It is not wholly 
unworthy of the company in which it is found, though its relative 
position in the volume, through mistake, has failed to be what its 
topics might justly claim. 

A short time previous to his death, Dr. Richards, in con- 
ference with his son, expressed a willingness that his lectures " On 
the Will," together with a few others, should be published if his 
friends desired. Had he lived to supervise what has now been 
done, it is quite probable that he would have made the vol- 
ume, in some respects, different from what it is. Some of his 
phraseology might have been thrown into a more popular form, 
and other and more important changes have been made. It may 
be proper to state, that some fault may easily be found with the 



PREFACE. y 

use of some verbal expressions, especially in the lectures u On Na- 
tive Depravity ;" but in extenuation, it may be remarked, that if 
words are there found which are not authorized by Webster, they 
are, at least, easily understood, and the author is entitled to the 
credit of iC giving the trumpet a certain sound." The plan of the 
lecture " On the Extent of the Atonement," as it existed in the 
author's mind, is not finished, inasmuch as it aimed at the discus- 
sion of two additional points, mentioned in the manuscript, which 
was omitted for the want of time, and which, though reserved for 
another opportunity, has not been found. The lecture, however, 
as published, is finished ; or discusses, at length, the points it pro- 
poses. 

As a whole, these lectures may be regarded as the result of the 
author's maturest reflections and severest study ; and they are now 
sent forth into the world with the belief that however they may 
" provoke unto love," in the form of review or criticism, they will 
nevertheless impart interest and profit to those who admire manly 
discussion, or have a taste for the character of reading which they 
are intended to furnish. 

As to the character of the a sketch," the writer would use a more 
careful form of speech. The work has been hurried to the press 
by circumstances which he could not control; and a part of the Bi- 
ography has been written amid other responsibilities of the most 
urgent and exciting character. 

It may be thought strange that the writer has dealt so largely in 
extracts, and so sparingly in entire letters, but his apology is two- 
fold. (1 . ) The space designed to be occupied by the Biography was 
too limited to allow the publishing of many entire letters ; and, (2,) 
The writer La honestly oppposed to giving much space to the mere in- 
troductions, or farewells, or irrelevant details of letters, in a work of 
this kind. If letters furnish what will aid the Biographer in drawing 
the character of his subject, or what will serve as links in the chain 
of bis history, so far they may be used with great advantage; but 
beyond this they are, in our judgment, of doubtful utility. The 
writer would state in this connection, however, that he has received 






yj PREFACE. 

several letters, from his fathers and brethren in the ministry, from 
which he has extracted, and which would have been published 
entire had our space allowed. These brethren have our grateful 
acknowledgments for the facts which they have communicated, and 
also for the aid furnished to the writer in confirming his own im- 
pressions of the character he has attempted to sketch, and thereby 
rendering him the more confident in giving those impressions to 
the world. From all, or nearly all, extracts are given. We humbly 
hope that our attempt to draw the character of Dr. Richards will 
not be found an entire failure. If those who knew him well shall 
recognize, in any good measure, the noble original — if the bereaved 
widow and the fatherless shall be satisfied — and if the youthful min- 
istry of our land shall be induced to covet more earnestly the fallen 
mantle of the " venerated dead," then good has been done — good 
to which, under God, our lamented father contributed, both in fur- 
nishing the character drawn, and in his influence upon the wri- 
ter — a son of the Auburn Seminary. 
Waterloo, 1th May, 1846. 



CONTENTS. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

CHAPTER I. 

Page 

From his Birth to his License to Preach the Gospel, ... 9 

CHAPTER II. 
From his License to the Close of his Ministry at Morristown, . 17 

CHAPTER III. 
His Ministry at Newark, 28 

CHAPTER IV. 
His connection with the Theological Seminary at Auburn, . . 34 

CHAPTER V. 
Last Sickness and Death, 59 

CHAPTER VI. 
Notices of his Character and Influence in various relations. . 70 



LECTURES 



LECTURE I. 
Ox the Will, 97 

LECTURE II. 
On the Will, (continued,) 115 

LECTURE III. 
On the Will, (continued,) 131 

LECTURE IV. 
On Creation, . . .154 

LECTURE V. 
On Creation, (continued,) |0| 



Y [[[ CONTENTS. 

LECTURE VI. 
On Second Causes, 185 

LECTURE VII. 
On Second Causes, (continued,) 202 

LECTURE VIII. 
On Second Causes, (continued,) : 218 

LECTURE IX. 
On the Fall of Man, 236 

LECTURE X. 
On Native Depravity, 256 

LECTURE XI. 
On Native Depravity, (continued,) 273 

LECTURE XII. 
On Native Depravity, (continued,) 292 

LECTURE XIII. 
On the Extent of the Atonement, 302 

LECTURE XIV. 
On Election, 328 

LECTURE XV. 
On Effectual Calling, 349 

LECTURE XVI. 
On Effectual Calling, (continued,) 362 

LECTURE XVII. 
On Justification, 380 

LECTURE XVIII. 
On Justification, (continued,) 396 

LECTURE XIX. 
On the Prayer of Faith, 408 

LECTURE XX. 
On the Prayer of Faith, (continued,) 423 

LECTURE XXI. 
On Apostacy, 452 

LECTURE XXII. 
On Ability and Inability, 476 



BIOGBAPHICAL SKETCH. 



CHAPTER I 



FROM HIS BIRTH TO HIS LICENSE TO PREACH THE GOSPEL. 

Samuel Richards, a youth of eighteen years, came to 
this country from Wales, in the reign of Queen Anne. 
He served, for a time, in the British service in Canada 
against the French, and afterwards went to Connecticut, 
and settled in Middlesex parish, near Stamford in that 
State. In the line of his descendants, James Richards, 
the subject of the following sketch, was of the fourtli 
generation, being the son of James, who was the son of 
James, who was the son of Samuel. He was born in 
New Canaan, Connecticut, October 29, 1767 ; and was 
the eldest of nine children, four of whom — two sons and 
two daughters — yet remain. His father was a farmer, a 
man of good sense, and esteemed for his social and 
Christian virtues. His mother, Ruth Hanford, was 
" a mother in Israel." She was a woman of vigorous 
intellect, of consistent piety, and of uncompromising 
faithfulness in all matters of social duty. As a mother, 
she partook Largely of the spirit of the age in which she 
lived. It was a day of household subjection. Children 
1 



JO BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

loved their parents not less, and feared them much more 
than at the present time. Such a child was James Rich- 
ards. He learned obedience to his parents. He was 
accustomed to say, that his mother governed her family with 
her eye and fore-finger. He cherished her memory with 
great affection, and regarded his own success and use- 
fulness in the world as owing much, under God, to her 
pious counsels, and wise administration of domestic 
law. 

In his early childhood and youth he was subject to 
much bodily weakness. Severe physical effort he was not 
able to endure ; and even mental application, when in- 
dulged except in a very moderate measure, seemed too 
much for his frail body. His fondness for books, however, 
together with his facility of acquiring knowledge, and 
his native perseverance, gave him an advantage over his 
equals in age, in point of mental acquirement, which 
furnished an offset to their physical superiority. He was 
accustomed to accomplish what he undertook, if within 
the range of his ability. When about five years old, at the 
instance of his teacher, he committed the second chapter 
of the second book of Samuel, during the time from Satur- 
day evening to Monday morning. In bringing this difficult 
chapter, consisting of 32 verses, under the control of his 
memory, he studied it by day, and repeated it in his bed 
during the night. His brother, now residing in the city 
of New York, says : " My mother often pointed those of 
us that were younger to the early achievements of our 
brother James, as an encouragement to our efforts in the 
early pursuit of knowledge." His fondness for study 
and mental activity, may also be inferred from the fact 
that he taught a common district school when but thirteen 
years of age, and with so much success as to secure him 
the same position during the succeeding winter. 

These early efforts as a teacher seem to have revived 
a desire previously cherished, to secure a public educa- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



11 



tion. In alluding to them in after life, he says : " They 
gave an impulse to my faculties." They awakened 
anxiety for knowledge, by investing him with the respon- 
sibility of imparting it to others. His father, however, 
was not prepared to indulge him with any means of 
mental acquisition beyond those which were furnished by 
the common district school ; and, therefore, the idea of 
a public education was suspended, if not abandoned. 

Yet it was his purpose to do something. "At the 
close of his second term in teaching," says his sister, 
" and when about fifteen years of age, he said to his 
parents, * It is time for me to turn my attention to some 
calling for life.' His father gave him leave to seek such 
useful trade as would suit his feelings. He immediately 
made his preparations to go. He went, not knowing 
where he should stop ; and my mother wept as he took 
his leave." 

In pursuance of his object, he first went to Newtown, 
a place twenty-five miles distant from New Canaan, and 
engaged as an apprentice in the business of cabinet and 
chair making, together with house painting. Here he 
was soon taken sick, and returned to his father's house 
to remain several months. Subsequently he went to 
Danbury, and lastly to Stamford, where his labors as a 
mechanic were brought to a close. He often spoke of 
spending also a short time in the city of New York, in 
a cabinet shop in that city, and especially of the dangers 
that beset his path in that great and guilty metropolis. 

When eight years old, he was the subject of marked 
religious impressions; and at the age of eleven some of 
his friends, for a time, indulged the hope that he had 
passed from death unto life. These religious promises, 
however, proved but the " morning cloud and early 
dew," which soon disappear. But in 178G, when in the 
nineteenth year of his age, the Gospel came to his soul 
as the " power of God unto salvation." The circum- 



12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

stances of his conversion, as gathered from the testimony 
of a surviving brother, were substantially as follows. A 
large number of youth in Stamford were assembled to 
pass the evening in youthful merriment and pleasure. 
To augment the glee of the occasion, young Richards, 
with some others, entered the assembly in disguise, and 
proceeded to other acts of unaccustomed levity. But 
what was meant for mirth became the occasion of convic- 
tion of sin. His soul was filled with arrows from the 
quiver of the Almighty, and his wounds could not be 
healed nor peace restored until application was made to 
the Physician in Gilead. He remained several days in 
great distress ; until at length, in connection with read- 
ing the thirty-eighth Psalm by Watts, the "burden" 
which he could not " bear " was removed by a foreign 
hand, and the " guilt " which he could not " atone " was 
cleansed by the blood of Christ. (See Psalm 38.) 

In speaking of his feelings previous to his conversion, 
and in connection with it, he once said in substance as 
follows, to one of his classes in the lecture-room in the 
Theological Seminary at Auburn : 

u I had long cherished the idea that I could be converted when 
I pleased, that faith preceded conversion, and that by exercising 
it I should lay God under obligation to give me a new heart. The 
time for the experiment at last came. My sins found me out, and 
I attempted to believe according to my cherished notions of faith, 
and thus induce God to give me the grace of regeneration. For 
several days I struggled, and struggled in vain. I began to see 
my own impotency, and consequently my dependence on the 
sovereign interposition of God ; and the more I saw, the more I 
hated. I became alarmed in view of my enmity, and began to 
feel that I had passed beyond my day of grace, and was rapidly 
sinking to hell. But at length my soul melted, and the method 
of salvation I had hated became my joy and my song." In ac- 
cordance with the foregoing 1 , he was accustomed more familiarly 
to say, " I was born an Arminian, and lived an A r mini an ; but 
obstinate freewiller as I was, at length, by sovereign power and 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 13 

mercy, I was brought to lick the dust of God's footstool, and accept 
of salvation by grace." 

His hopeful conversion was soon followed by an open 
confession of Christ, not only in the act of entering into 
covenant with the Church, but in his daily conversation 
and intercourse with the world. He united with the 
Congregational church in Stamford on the 17th Septem- 
ber, 1786. His conversion and subsequent zeal in the 
service of God created much sensation among the peo- 
ple. It was a day when revivals were few — and when 
religion, especially among the young, was suffering gene- 
ral neglect. Even many good men, in their remem- 
brance of the extravagances of Davenport and others, 
and the evils connected with them, and dreading the 
return to Zion of such calamities, were themselves al- 
most suspicious of any unwonted exhibition of zeal in 
the promotion of religion. Hence, when the subject of 
this sketch, in the days of his first love to Christ, began 
to speak in meetings for conference and prayer, and tell 
what Christ had done for him, occasion was taken for 
much remark. Some doubted ; some were anxious as 
to whereunto these things would grow ; others, like the 
mother of Jesus, " kept all these sayings in " their 
hearts. 

He had no sooner become satisfied of his acceptance 
with God through Christ, than a desire for the " office of 
a bishop " sprung up in his soul ; and this desire, under 
the advice of his pastor and other Christian friends, soon 
grew into a purpose to prepare himself for that " good 
work." 

His master, to whom he was indented, convinced that 
he would not pursue his trade beyond the period of his 
indenture, should he be held to its fulfillment, and know- 
ing his desire to enter upon a course of study, kindly 
released him from his obligations. His return to New 



J4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

Canaan with a new character, and a new purpose for 
life, subjected him to prejudice and embarrassment, 
which often fall to the lot " of a prophet in his own 
country." Some, indeed, blessed God for the change ; 
but others were unbelieving, and marveled that a young 
dependent mechanic, whose mother and sisters were w T ith 
them, should conceive the purpose of becoming a minis- 
ter of the Gospel. His coming among his " own people," 
however, made a favorable impression upon the minds of 
some, both in and out of the Church. His brother, now 
of Westport, Ct., says : " When James returned home I 
was thoughtless and careless, as most young people were 
at that time. But his warnings and admonitions made 
an impression upon my mind which I could not shake 
off. I have ever regarded his pious influence at that 
time, as the chief instrumentality in bringing me to a 
knowledge of Christ." 

There were those, also, who welcomed him as a helper 
in sustaining " the things which were ready to die " in 
the Church of God. Weekly religious meetings, which 
had long been suspended, were appointed at his earnest 
solicitation, and aided by such gifts as God had com- 
mitted to his trust. His course of study preparatory to 
college was commenced under the direction of the Rev. 
Justus Mitchel, then pastor in New Canaan. Inspired 
with a love of study, and a desire for " the office of a 
bishop" — now anticipated with all the freshness and 
power of his " first love" — he gave himself to his books 
with great zeal and energy. After the lapse of a few 
months, however, he was interrupted by sickness — a 
form of embarrassment with which he became very fa- 
miliar in the progress of his studies. This attack was 
followed by an extreme weakness of his eyes, which 
deprived him of their use for several months. In this 
emergency he contrived to make some progress in his 
course of study, by availing himself of the aid of his 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. |5 

youngest sister, who daily read in his hearing such les- 
sons as he might direct. 

His preparations for college were completed under the 
instructions of Dr. Burnett, of Norwalk, to which place 
he was invited by two female relatives — Sarah and Phebe 
Comstock — who proposed to give him his board, and 
render him other aid according to their ability. These 
excellent females continued to show him favor through 
his course of study, and their great kindness was held 
in grateful remembrance. 

In the autumn of 1789 he entered Yale College ; but 
owing to his failure in availing himself of a foundation by 
which to meet his current expenses, he was obliged to 
leave at the close of the freshman year and return to his 
friends. From this time he abandoned the expectation 
of a regular and liberal course of study, and determined 
to make the most of such private advantages as might 
lie within his reach. He returned to his old friend, Dr. 
Burnett, of Norwalk, to enjoy again his excellent instruc- 
tions, together with the kind hospitalities and aid of the 
female relatives to whom we have alluded. 

While here, his studies were again interrupted by the 
invasion of dangerous and protracted sickness. He was 
carried to New Canaan, where for the space of several 
weeks his extreme weakness forbade articulation, and 
he seemed one of the dead rather than of the living. He 
regarded this illness as peculiarly profitable to his spiritual 
interests, and his restoration to health as one of the most 
striking interpositions of a gracious Providence connected 
with his whole life. In alluding to his recovery, he often 
spoke of the affectionate care of a sister next younger 
than himself, whom he regarded as the chief instrument, 
under God, of preventing his going down to the grave. 
This sister watched by his bedside, anticipated his wants, 
administered medicine, and, like Miriam, the sister of 
the infant Moses, waited anxiously " to wit what would 



Ig BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

be done to " her brother. As his case became more 
hopeful, and his strength would permit, she bore him in 
her arms, or placing him in an easy chair drew him both 
in doors and in the open air, or indulged him in the 
grateful exercise of the family swing, as though he were 
but a child, and as if her own life were bound up in his. 
Faithful sister ! surely thou hast not lost the reward of 
thine affectionate care and patient toil. After the lapse 
of several months his health was restored, and he re- 
turned to Norwaik and engaged in study. 

In 1791 he went to Farmington and spent a few 
months in teaching, and also availed himself of such 
opportunity to pursue his studies as was consistent with 
other duties. From this place he went to Greenfield, 
where he availed himself of the tuition of Dr. D wight, 
until he applied for license to preach the Gospel. 

It may be proper to remark in this place, that though 
the subject of this sketch must have suffered loss in 
many respects by his interruption in a college course of 
study, still, to the honor of his teachers, it ought to be 
said that no advantages, except those of a well-regulated 
college, could have surpassed those which were furnished 
under their instruction. Their grateful pupil often spoke 
with much interest of the great excellence of Dr. Bur- 
nett as a teacher ; and it is well known that the school 
on "Greenfield Hill/' under Dr. Dwight, was one of 
" unexampled reputation." Nor did young Richards fail 
to make the most faithful use of the means of knowledge 
thus furnished. He studied with great diligence, and 
his attainments are sufficiently shown by the fact that in 
1794, at the instance of Dr. Dwight, he received the 
degree of Bachelor of Arts from the corporation of Yale 
College. 



CHAPTER II. 



FROM HIS LICENSE TO THE CLOSE OF HIS MINISTRY AT MORRISTOWN. 

In 1793 he made application to the Association in the 
Western District of Fairfield Co., and was licensed by a 
Committee of that body to preach the Gospel. The 
Rev. Dr. Burnett, of Norwalk, with whom he had 
studied, claimed for his own pulpit the first sermon of 
his young friend and pupil, and compliance with the 
claim was yielded "in weakness and in fear, and in 
much trembling " on the part of Mr. Richards. He sup- 
plied, for a few sabbaths, the church in Wilton, a neigh- 
boring town, and then went to Ballston, New York, and 
preached on a short engagement. The following cove- 
nant and resolutions are found among his papers, dated 
at Ballston, Dec. 22, 1793 : 

" I do now, in the presence of God and his holy angels, sol- 
emnly avouch the Lord Jehovah, Father, Son and Holy Ghost, 
to be my God, and promise, by the help of his Holy Spirit, with- 
out which I can do nothing, to devote myself to him in an ever- 
lasting covenant, never to be forgotten. As the chief of sinners, I 
resolve to look up to God for pardon and acceptance, through the 
blood of his dear Son, and to rest my soul on the gracious promises 
of the Gospel ; determining to renounce sin in all its appearances, 
I resolve to consecrate my time, talents, and all that I have on 
earth, to the service of God, promising to make his glory the ulti- 
mate end of all my actions. It is my resolution to be more watch- 
ful and prayerful than I have hitherto been ; to sec that my thoughts 
are employed on proper subjects, and in their proper times; to 
guard against all rash and heedless words, all severe and unjusti- 
fiable remarks on the persons and character of oilier men ; taking 
heed to the door of my lips, that I offend not with my tongue. 



lg BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

" I resolve that I will not suffer my passions to take the place of 
my reason, but will subject them to the laws of God and religion. 
Never to be ' angry without a cause,' nor to indulge that kind of 
anger which is incompatible with disinterested love to my neigh- 
bor. I resolve, moreover, to be faithful in all the relative duties 
incumbent on me, and particularly in the discharge of the duties 
a Gospel minister — preaching the Word of God in all its purity 
and extent, and serving the Lord with all humility and patience, 
that by meekness, gentleness, and love unfeigned, I may win 
oth'ers to the Gospel of Christ. 

" Remember, my Soul, these resolutions and the vows of God 
which are upon thee. Thou canst not violate them without incur- 
ring the displeasure of the best of beings, the best of fathers, and 
the most faithful of friends ; nor without injuring thy best and 
dearest interests. Strengthen me, O Lord, I beseech thee, and 
confirm the resolution of thy servant. Keep me by thy mighty 
power from sinning against thee, and preserve me spotless unto 
thy heavenly kingdom. Amen." 

Soon after the date of the foregoing resolutions, Mr. 
Richards went to Long Island, and entered into an en- 
gagement to preach to two small congregations ; one at 
Sag Harbor and the other at Shelter Island. 

The following grateful tribute to his memory as a minis- 
ter at Sag Harbor, is found in " The History of Long Isl- 
and," by the Rev. N. S. Prime : " The late Rev. James 
Richards, D. D. — a name loved and revered throughout the 
Church — made some of his first essays in this place to 
preach the Gospel. And though he was here but a short 
time, his labors of love were highly appreciated by a pious 
few ; the most of whom have already hailed him as the 
helper of their faith, and are now rejoicing with him in 
a brighter world. There was one precious saint, long 
since gone to her rest, whom the writer has often heard 
speak of the satisfaction and benefit which she derived 
from the labors of that youthful servant of Christ, not 
only in the pulpit, but at the domestic fireside ; and the 
name of 'Richards' was music in her ears to her dying 
day." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



19 



In May, 1794, he was invited to visit the church and 
congregation in Morristown, N. J., as a candidate for the 
pastoral office ; which invitation he accepted, and agreed 
to visit that people at the expiration of his existing en- 
gagements. This arrangement was made under the 
advice of Dr. Buel, of East Hampton, and his son-in-law 
the Rev. Aaron Woolworth, of Bridgehampton. Dr. Buel 
had long been acquainted with the character of the con- 
gregation now vacant, and his own mind and that of his 
son-in-law were favorably impressed as to the ministe- 
rial character and promise of Mr. Richards. 

In a letter written to Rev. Dr. Johnes, the old friend 
and pastor of the church in Morristown, while the ques- 
tion of the young candidate's settlement was pending, 
Dr. Buel uses the following language : " The man who, 
on a thorough acquaintance with James Richards, does 
not love him, cannot himself be deserving the love of 
any man." 

He entered upon his labors in Morristown in the 
month of June, 1794 ; and in September following re- 
ceived a call to take the pastoral charge of the congre- 
gation. 

In November of this year he was married to Caroline, 
daughter of James Cowles, of Farmington, Connecticut. 

His ordination to the work of the Gospel ministry, and 
the consummation of his pastoral relations took place on 
the 1st of May, 1797, " at a stated meeting of what was 
then called the Presbytery of New York." 

The charge now committed to the hands of Mr. Rich- 
ards, was one of great responsibility. The congregation 
was large, comprising much intelligence, and withal af- 
flicted with divisions of sentiment and feeling, which had 
grown out of their relations to a former minister — who 
was a colleague of Dr. Johnes. For a just view of the 
responsibility of the new pastor, together witli the char- 
acter and influence of his ministry in Morristown we 



20 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

may refer the reader to the following extracts. In a 
letter to Lewis Condit, Esq., in which he alludes to the 
state of things when he took the pastoral charge of the 
people of Morristown, he says : 

" Nov. 26, 1840. — They [your fathers] differed greatly in opin- 
ion, and for a time were strongly opposed to each other in feeling, 
but they judged it best not to divide but to make sacrifices, and 
endeavor to harmonize. Their endeavors were successful — they 
were harmonized — peace and brotherly love became the order of 
the day ; and, with some slight exceptions, have marked the course 
of things in the congregation for almost half a century." 

The following extract from a letter to his youngest 
son now in the ministry, shows the extent of the field 
which he occupied, and the amount and kind of labors 
demanded and bestowed. 

" In this great congregation I had the sick and afflicted to visit, 
the dead to bury, the wandering to look after, the captious and 
uneasy to soothe, besides schools to catechise and lectures to preach 
and prayer-meetings to attend ; altogether creating a vast amount 
of labor, independent of regular family visitations and preparing 
for the pulpit. Not a little time was consumed in occasional calls 
upon my people and their calls upon me. The result of all this 
was, I was like a man in harvest — always pressed with engage- 
ments, and with more than I could fairly meet. It became neces- 
sary, therefore, to make a selection among the calls of dut} 7 , and 
attend to those first which were of the most urgent character, 
leaving others to the dubiousness of an hereafter. ***** 
I endeavored to derive advantage from the various occurrences of 
Divine Providence ; from the teachings of God's Word, and from 
my constant intercourse with the most spiritual and devoted among 
my people. This last circumstance was not only a matter of 
special comfort, but of profit to my soul. I felt myself instructed 
and invigorated often from conversing freely with some of my 
plainest people on the subject of experimental religion." 

The following is from the pen of Lewis Condit, Esq., to 
whom we have before alluded : 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 21 

" May, 1845. — The general character of Mr. Richard's ministry 
was consistent, uniform, and worthy of imitation. He seemed to live, 
and at alt times to act, as under the impression that his great and 
leading duty was to preach the Gospel of Christ — to instruct his 
people faithfully in its essential doctrines and truths, and per- 
suade them to obey its precepts and imitate the life of its Divine 
Author. * * As a teacher and a pastor, he enjoyed the entire 
confidence, respect, and affection of his whole flock." 

While thus living in the hearts of his people he also 
increased in the confidence and esteem of the Chris- 
tian public. He was favorably known, both in the halls 
of Science, and in the judicatories of the Church of 
God. In the year 1801 he received the degree of Mas- 
ter of Arts from the corporation of the College of Prince- 
ton, in his own State, and in 1805 he was duly elected 
Moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian 
Church — a position, we believe, rarely occupied by a 
man of thirty-seven. To these distinctions were also 
added others — others of more worth to the heart of a 
Christian pastor. Within two years from his installation, 
God poured out his Spirit, and more than one hundred 
souls bowed professedly to Jesus, and united with the 
Church. A second revival in 1803 and 1804, and a third 
in 1808, crowned his labors also with the increase that 
cometh from God. 

The character and influence of these seasons of reli- 
gious interest may be best learned from a letter written 
by the subject of this sketch to the Rev. Albert Barnes, 
and dated January 9th, 1828. 

M During my ministry at Morristown, there were three sea- 
sons of special attention to religion, the first and last of which 
irere tbe most considerable. The first was remarkable, chiefly, 
from this circumstance, that it came upon the congregation by 
surprise. None of the church members, that ever I could learn, 
were specially stirred up to desire or expect it. Of course, the 
Church appeared full of unbelief, when it was announced that tbe 



22 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

Lord was in the midst of us, of a truth. Even those who, from 
their exemplary character, might have been expected to be wait- 
ing for the consolation of Israel, were manifestly unprepared for 
this sovereign act of Divine mercy. But, prepared or unprepared, 
the windows of heaven were opened, and the spiritual rain de- 
scended, and about one hundred souls were hopefully brought into 
the kingdom, as the fruit and effect of this refreshing. They did 
not all join the church at once, but principally in the course of 
that and the following year. 

" The second revival, in 1803, was much more local in its ope- 
rations, and by no means characterized with the same power. It 
excited considerable attention in the congregation, and served to 
draw forth the prayers and exertions of Christians ; but still it was 
confined chiefly to one or two neighborhoods. 

" The third and last of these interesting seasons, I always 
regarded as the most precious ; not because it seemed to take a 
wider sweep, but because, as far as it went, it appeared to be more 
deep and effective, and exerted a more benign influence on the 
church. This revival was evidently preceded by a spirit of prayer. 
To my latest breath, I shall remember how some of the dear people 
of God appeared to feel and agonize, in their supplications before 
the Lord, when imploring his gracious presence in the midst of us. 
Through the whole of the preceding winter, there had been some 
feeling and some expectancy in the church on this subject, occa- 
sioned, perhaps, by the revivals which had occurred, and were then 
occurring, in some of the neighboring congregations. But the 
church seemed to calculate that this good work would go from 
congregation to congregation, as a matter of course. When, how- 
ever, they saw that the cloud of God's presence had come to our 
very borders, on two sides of us, and was stayed, they began to 
tremble, to feel their dependence, and to cry mightily unto God, 
that he would not utterly refuse to bless us. The blessing came, 
and sealed, not a few, I trust, unto the day of redemption. Be- 
tween seventy and eighty were added to the church, in that and 
the subsequent year, who dated their conversion from this interest- 
ing period. I will only add, that on inquiring of my brethren who 
succeeded me in this charge, I was uniformly told that the mem- 
bers gathered during this revival, had been peculiarly circumspect, 
and very few of them subjected to any church censure. 

" As to means employed, either in the commencement or pro- 
gress of these revivals, I can say nothing ; except that the Gospel 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 23 

was preached as plainly and faithfully as I was able, and that 
publicly, and from house to house. Prayer-meetings, anxious- 
meetings, or conferences, were found to be of special service in 
promoting the good work. 7 ' 



In 1809, Mr. Richards received and accepted a call 
from the First Presbyterian Church in Newark, to become 
their pastor. The causes which led to the dissolution 
of the connection between him and the congregation at 
Morristown, were briefly these : 

For several years his salary had been inadequate to 
the support of his family, and he had been obliged to 
resort to other means to meet his current expenses. 
Among other expedients, he had kept several boarders — 
an expedient which, while it answered the end designed, 
increased the domestic cares of the pastor, whose official 
responsibilities were well-nigh overwhelming. The evil 
was perceived, and deeply felt. Both Mr. Richards and 
his more intimate friends, became satisfied that such a 
state of things ought not to be continued. Hence it was 
judged best that the salary should be so increased as to 
sustain the pastor, independent of profits arising from a 
boarding establishment. A meeting was accordingly 
called, at which statements were made to the congrega- 
tion, setting forth the revenues and expenditures of the 
pastor, and the urgent necessity of his receiving an in- 
creased compensation. The people, however, were not 
prepared for such a movement. Some were slow to see 
the necessity of an increase of salary, and opposed the 
effort ; others were wavering ; the friends of the mea- 
sure, though many, were at first timid, and " touched 
the matter with great delicacy ;" and nothing was effec- 
tually done. One or two other meetings, called for the 
purpose of considering the question of augmenting the 
salary, came substantially to the same result. This state 
of things in the congregation, deeply affected the deli- 



24 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

cate sensibilities of Mr. Richards. He thus alludes to 
it in a letter, written afterwards to his son : 

cc When in the summer and fall of 1808, (the year before I 
went to Newark,) my people refused to unite in an augmentation 
of my salary, though many were earnestly for it, I found it grieved 
me, and many things connected with it mortified me and agitated 
me. I presently discovered that I was getting into a state of mind 
by no means favorable to my comfort or my usefulness. Instead, 
therefore, of dwelling upon the subject, and especially upon the 
dark side of the picture, I resolved to give myself anew to the du- 
ties of my ministry, to serve God, and his people given me in 
charge, with all the strength I had, and to do whatever seemed 
proper and meet to be done, as if no untoward event had occurred. 

" And let me say, I found great comfort in this. Though my 
resolution was to discharge my duty, and leave the event with 
God, yet I did not infer that I was not at liberty to watch the mov- 
ings of Providence, and avail myself of any opportunity which 
should present, to change my relations, provided such change ap- 
peared to be accompanied with the indications of duty." 

In the mean time an effectual door of usefulness was 
opening in Newark. Dr. Griffin, the pastor of the First 
Presbyterian Church in that city, had been invited to a 
professorship in the Theological Seminary at Andover, 
and, as was supposed, strongly recommended to his peo- 
ple Mr. Richards as his successor. A correspondence 
commenced, in which the most earnest appeals were 
made in behalf of the Newark congregation. To the al- 
ready afflicted pastor, these appeals were occasion of 
new trials. Though he had supposed it right to watch 
the movements of Providence, and thought it possible 
that he might be called to yield his present relations, 
yet he dreaded the coming of the day when they should 
be sundered. His present pastoral charge was the ob- 
ject of his " first love." He knew his flock. The sheep 
and the lambs he could call by their respective names. 
They also knew his voice, and had been wont to follow 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



25 



him. And a people, who had called him as their spiritual 
watchman in his youth — who had laid aside their ani- 
mosities to sustain him — who had taught their children 
to reverence him as a father, might well urge a strong 
claim to the services of his riper years. 

Nor was there any attachment on the part of the peo- 
ple, which was not reciprocated by the pastor. In a let- 
ter to the member of the congregation, already alluded 
to, and written but a short time before his death, he 
says: 

" Never was a minister more happy with his people than 
I with mine, during the fifteen years I spent among you. With 
you I was willing to live, and with you I expected to die." 

To the same, in another letter, he writes : 

"I can truly say, that if there be a spot on earth to which 
my mind turns with more than ordinary affection, it is that where 
I was ordained to the work of the Gospel ministry, and took upon 
myself the obligation of the Christian pastor. I loved the people 
that called me to this work, and I trust I loved the work itself." 

The reasons for a change, however, seemed more and 
more urgent. The increase of the salary was postponed ; 
the health of Mrs. Richards had declined; his rising 
family were increasingly expensive ; and he began to 
entertain the impression that the promise of his useful- 
ness in Morristown was diminished by the excitement 
which the proposal to raise the salary had created. 

These considerations inclined him to give some en- 
couragement to the congregation in Newark ; and he 
intimated that should they extend to him a unanimous 
call, it would receive a careful consideration, and that 
he should " acquiesce in what seemed to be the leadings 
of God's providence." Such a call soon came into his 
hands. In anticipation of it, his congregation had suc- 
ceeded in voting an increase of salary ; and prior to thei 
2 



25 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

knowledge of his acceptance, they set forth their views 
and feelings in two formal memorials addressed to their 
pastor. One of these was sent from a meeting of seventy- 
one ladies, and presented by the hands of a committee 
whose names are appended to the address. It is a docu- 
ment which reflects honor both upon the pastor, and 
upon those who sent it. It reads as follows : 

J< Dear Sir : 

" Having lately been informed that you contemplate a removal 
from the pastoral charge of this congregation, we, the subscribers, 
in behalf of ourselves and the meeting of females we represent, 
feel ourselves constrained to express to you, in some degree, the 
deep regret and anxiety we experience on the occasion, in common 
with all classes and descriptions of persons composing this nume- 
rous society. The attachment we feel for you and your amiable 
family is not founded in the transient acquaintance of a day or a 
month. A period of fourteen years and upwards, spent in the 
most friendly interchange of kind offices, has gradually ripened 
and matured that acquaintance into a permanent and refined 
friendship. As the faithful shepherd and pastor of our flock, 
words fail us to express our veneration and esteem for you. Many 
of us have grown from infancy and youth into active life during 
your ministry here, and through the instrumentality of your public 
instructions, friendly admonitions and exemplary life, have been 
enabled, through Divine aid, to partake of the rich blessings of 
that Gospel which you have so faithfully preached. * * * 
Others of us have, at the same time, been declining the steep of 
life, and now stand on the verge of eternity. Most of our attach- 
ments formed in youth have been rent in sunder. You have per- 
sonally witnessed, in many instances, the parting scene. You 
have accompanied us who are widows and mothers to the grave 
of many a beloved husband and child. You have mingled your 
tears with ours, and, in the keenest moments of anguish and 
heart-rending grief, you have administered to us the only consola- 
tion promised in the Gospel by the widow's God. * * * 

"You settled among us in the work of the ministry while we were 
a divided people. Happily for us these divisions no longer exist, 
and our attachment to you is probably much strengthened, consid- 
ering you as the means of restoring harmony among us. You 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 27 

yourself were in the morning of life, the season, of all others, the 
best adapted for forming lasting attachments. Is it to be expected 
that a change of circumstances, in the afternoon of life, can add 
much to the share of happiness which is perhaps already as con- 
siderable as usually falls to the lot of man 1 

iC If, however, after due consideration of the solemn ties that bind 
you to this church, a removal may appear to you a duty, and you 
consider it as a mean of enlarging your own sphere of comfort 
and enjoyment, perhaps we ought to acquiesce in the separation, 
however painful it may be. 

" Whether you leave us or remain with us, you may rest assured 
of our prayers for a blessing on your labors, and our best wishes 
for the happiness and prosperity of yourself and family." 

But these remonstrances, and the announcement of 
the vote to increase the salary of the pastor, came too 
late. The encouragement which had been given to an- 
other congregation, had been answered in a unanimous 
call. The conditions which he had suggested had been 
met, and painful as was the thought of parting, he was 
not the man to smj and not do. 

The foregoing is a brief outline of the circumstances 
under which the question of dissolving the pastoral rela- 
tion came before the Presbytery of Jersey. The con- 
gregation, in parish meeting, after a painful struggle, 
resolved to submit the whole question to that body. 
When the Presbytery met at Elizabethtown, April 26, 
1809, a member, then residing at Morristown, after an 
able and full exposition of the causes which had induced 
the pastor to ask leave to resign his pastoral charge, and 
an entire justification of the request, concluded in the 
following words : 

u As an inhabitant of Morristown, no one has more serious rea- 
sons to regret the removal of Mr. Richards, than myself: — Yet his 
removal, I regard rather as the misfortune than the fault of Mor- 
ristown ; and his removal to Newark as an event brought about 
rather by the providence of God, than by the destination of man. 
I shall, therefore, move that the call from the people of Newark 
be put into his hands." 



CHAPTER III. 



HIS MINISTRY AT NEWARK. 

His call to Newark was received in April, 1809, and 
he removed his family to that place on the 17th of May 
following. On the 28th of the same month, Dr. Griffin 
preached his farewell sermon to his congregation, and 
the responsibilities of the pastoral charge were left with 
his successor. A more weighty charge or more delicate 
position could hardly he assumed. Dr. Griffin was then 
regarded as one of the most gifted and eloquent ministers 
in the American Church, and Newark had been favored 
with nearly eight years of the most vigorous and efficient 
portion of his pastoral life. His labors, too, had been 
crowned with signal success, the church having increased 
from two to five hundred members during his ministry. 
It is worthy also of notice, that he left at the close of a 
revival, to which, in a letter written to Mr. Richards, he 
thus alludes : " I was there in the harvest time, but you 
came in the fall of the year ;" intimating the disadvan- 
tage under which his successor entered upon his pastoral 
charge. 

Mr. Richards felt the responsibility of his position, and 
resolved, under God, to make full proof of his ministry. 
He said to a friend, " I am resolved to c give attendance 
to reading ;' I must study now if ever." He did study, 
and he also " gave himself to prayer." His purpose to 
magnify his office, appeared in the pulpit and in the 
walks of pastoral intercourse ; and the attachment of the 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



29 



people grew with his growth, and strengthened with his 
strength. 

In 1811 the congregation under his care judged it ex- 
pedient to become " two bands ;" and, accordingly, an 
organization was effected under the name of the " Sec- 
ond Presbyterian Church and Congregation of New- 
ark," and the Rev. Hooper Cumming was constituted the 
first pastor. This whole matter received both the ap- 
probation and aid of Mr. Richards ; and his kind regard 
for the spiritual well-being of the new church may be 
learned from the following introduction of an address 
delivered by him at the time of its organization : 

" The circumstances, my brethren, in which you are assembled 
this afternoon, are in several respects novel and interesting. After 
having peaceably withdrawn from your former connections, 
and being set apart as a distinct congregation — after erecting a 
house for the worship of God, and dedicating it to his service — 
after calling and settling a minister, who is to go in and out before 
you and break unto you the bread of life — you are come together 
to complete your religious privileges. Those of you who have 
heretofore been professors of religion are to organize yourselves as 
a church of Christ, by giving yourselves to one another and to the 
Lord. Here you are to recognize each other as the friends of Jesus 
— purchased by his blood and sanctified by Ins Spirit — the joint heirs 
with him to an eternal inheritance. How tender, how solemn, 
how important is the relation ! By virtue of it you expect often to 
commune with each other at the table of the Lord ; and, if you 
are not deceived in your hopes, to spend an eternity together in 
his kingdom. Formerly, indeed, you were the constituent mem- 
bers of the same church, but your circle being wider, you were less 
known to each other than you will hereafter be. You must now 
lake upon you those cares and labors which, heretofore, you have 
shared with a much larger number. From being a part only of a 
particular church, you will now become a distinct church your- 
selves, and stand in the number of those golden candlesticks among 
whom the Divine Redeemer graciously condescends to walk. 
What occasion will you have to rejoice, if he will condescend to 
visit you — if he will crown with his special presence and blessing 



30 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

the transactions of this afternoon, and henceforth dwell in your 
hearts by love. Many important subjects of reflection will natu- 
rally present themselves to your minds on this occasion, but I can 
think of none which more deservedly merits your attention, than 
these words : u Let brotherly love continue." Hitherto you have 
been united in counsel, and united in affection. Let the same 
spirit continue in you and abound, and you have the promise that 
the God of love and peace shall be with you." 

He farther spoke on this occasion, in a course of ex- 
tempore remarks, on the subject of brotherly love — a 
subject, the choice of which may be regarded as the 
index of his earnest desire, that those who had thus 
gone out from his immediate pastoral care, might become 
a band " strong in the Lord and by the power of his 
might." 

The subsequent history of this new organization be- 
came the occasion of showing, in a strong light, the 
excellent character and ministerial worth of Mr. Rich- 
ards. Things which, at first, seemed hazardous to his 
position and usefulness, operated, in the providence 
of God, for his advancement. One occurrence, which 
we may mention, was a call extended to his illustrious 
predecessor the Rev. Dr. Griffin, to take the pastoral 
charge of the new congregation, after an absence of 
only six years. Perhaps in most cases, the return of a 
former pastor under such circumstances, and especially 
of the commanding talents and great worth of Dr. Grif- 
fin, would be likely to render the position of his succes- 
sor somewhat unpleasant. The possibility of such an 
influence was deprecated by some of the people in New- 
ark, and became the subject of frank and fraternal cor- 
respondence between Dr. Griffin and Mr. Richards, pre- 
vious to the acceptance of the call. The experiment, 
however, was made ; and for the space of six years these 
devoted men labored side by side, with perhaps equal 
honor and usefulness. Each pastor had points in which 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 3 J 

he excelled. One, perhaps, in the " gift of tongues " 
and in " prophecy ; and the other in the " word of wis- 
dom " and " discerning of spirits." One in the surpass- 
ing power of his occasional efforts, and the other in the 
uniform interest of his ordinary preaching ; the one in 
success in gathering the lambs into the fold, the other in 
keeping them when gathered. Both were stars of the 
first magnitude. One star, it may be, differed from the 
other star in glory, but so far was the glory of the one 
from eclipsing or obscuring the glory of the other, that 
the glory of each was the more glorious by the conti- 
guity of their orbits, and the close comparative estimate 
to which each was subjected. And if, in this compari- 
son, the name of Richards suffers not, where will you 
look to find " the glory that excelleth." 

While at Newark Mr. Richards received new proofs 
of the confidence of the Christian public. lie was early 
elected Trustee of the College of New Jersey, and held 
the place until he removed from the State. In 1812, the 
year in which the Theological Seminary at Princeton was 
established, he was appointed a Director of that Institu- 
tion, and served in that capacity with great acceptance 
while he remained in Newark. In Sept. 1814, he preached 
the annual sermon before the American Board of Commis- 
sioners for Foreign Missions. The appointment places his 
name among the early friends of modern missions; and the 
sermon evinces enlarged views and a warm heart in the 
work of evangelizing the world. In 1815 he received 
the degree of Doctor of Divinity from two Colleges — 
Union and Yale — a degree which, at that day, was an 
index, both of professional and general worth. 

His name is also found in connection with the origin 
of several of the great benevolent institutions of the 
age. The American Bible Society, whose leaves, for 
thirty years, have gone forth for the healing of the na- 
tions, owes its existence, in part, to his efforts. For 



32 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

several years he served as the Secretary of the Presby- 
terian Education Society, and perhaps no form of pious 
effort more powerfully excited the sympathies of his 
heart, or secured his more devoted labors, than the 
work of training indigent young men for the Gospel 
ministry. 

While prosecuting his labors in Newark, Dr. Rich- 
ards suffered a few of the productions of his pen to be 
published. An Address delivered at the funeral of Mrs. 
Sarah Cumming, wife of the Rev. Hooper Cumming, 
which occurred in 1812, has been publicly noticed with 
favor. The occasion was one of deep interest. The 
death of Mrs C. was occasioned at Patterson, by a fall 
from the rocks overhanging the Passaic, while she was 
viewing the scenery of that place. The excitement 
produced in Newark was unwonted, and the funeral one 
of the largest ever known in the city. The scene 
woke up the strong sympathies of the preacher's heart, 
and his address was worthy of himself and the occasion. 

In 1816 several of his sermons were given to the press. 
Among these, the one entitled " The Sinner's Inability 
to come to Christ," may be regarded as a lucid and 
forcible exhibition of the subject, and, perhaps, this dis- 
course may be considered as a fair specimen of the per- 
spicuity which usually marked his expositions of Gospel 
truth. 

As a pastor in Newark, it was the privilege of Dr. 
Richards to know that his labor was " not in vain in the 
Lord." At several distinct periods God was with his 
people of a truth. About the close of his first pastoral 
year a few souls were hopefully brought from darkness 
into light. In the year 1813, Zion was refreshed and 
salvation came to the congregation ; and in 1817 the 
heavens dropped fatness and the skies poured down 
righteousness upon the people. As the fruits of this re- 
vival, 69 were added to the church in May, 54 in July, 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 33 

and in all, including those who united soon after, 135 
within nine months. This was emphatically the year of 
God's right hand, in connection with a ministry of four- 
teen years and a half. During the pastoral services of 
Dr. Richards, the church received an accession of about 
five hundred members — three hundred and thirty-two 
were added on the profession of their faith, and six 
young men, members of the church, were licensed to 
preach the Gospel. 

It may also be noticed that Dr. Richards, for a consid- 
erable time previous to his taking leave of Newark, was 
regarded as having made extraordinary attainments in 
Christian theology. Young men looking to the Christian 
ministry availed themselves of his instructions, and studied 
under his direction; and those who knew him best look- 
ed to the day when God, in his providence, might point 
him to the more exclusive work of instructing those 
who were preparing to preach the Gospel. 

I conclude this chapter in the words of the present 
Pastor of the First Presbyterian Congregation in Newark, 
from a discourse pronounced on the occasion of the death 
of Dr. Richards. 

" Fifteen years he devoted to the faithful discbarge of his duties 
as a minister of Christ with this people, and probably few men in 
the ministry ever more punctually, systematically, and successfully 
performed the duties of the sacred office. 

* * * "The continued prosperity of this church, the hopeful 
conversion of hundreds under his ministry, the enlarged benevo- 
lence which distinguished the people of his charge, and the har- 
mony that existed through his entire ministry, are the results and 
evidences of his fidelity among you." 



CHAPTER IV. 



HIS CONNECTION WITH THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY AT AUBURN. 

The Theological Seminary at Auburn, was established 
in 1819, by the Synod of Geneva, and with the sanction 
of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church. 
It was incorporated by a law of the State in 1820. By 
the Act of Incorporation the Institution was placed under 
the care of a Board of Trustees and a Board of Com- 
missioners ; the latter to be chosen annually by the 
Presbyteries recognized in the Act, and by other Pres- 
byteries who might afterward associate with them. 

In 1821 the Seminary went into operation, with three 
professors, and with ten or twelve students. It was a 
bold effort ; — an effort, we doubt not, resulting from that 
faith which sees " light in the darkness." Not a professor- 
ship was endowed; the Library was necessarily indiffer- 
ent both as to the number and the selection of books ; 
while the Christian community were but partially awake 
to the merits or the worth of such an institution. At 
the end of two years, the number of students had not 
increased, but rather diminished; and in no respects, 
perhaps, were the prospects of the institution materially 
brightened, except in the advancement of the Seminary 
edifice. 

About this time, however, an important impulse was 
given to this infant school of the prophets. Arthur 
Tappan, Esq., of the city of New York, generously devoted 
the sum of fifteen thousand dollars, as a capital fund, to 
be used as a permanent endowment of a professorship of 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 35 

Christian Theology. Never was aid more opportune 
than this. Hands that hung down were lifted up, and 
feeble knees were strengthened. The name of the 
author of this relief will long be held in grateful remem- 
brance, as one of the greatest benefactors of the Auburn 
Seminary. 

From the first, Dr. Richards was regarded by the 
friends of the Institution as a suitable and prominent 
candidate for the Theological Professorship, and accord- 
ingly received an appointment in 1820, which he saw 
fit to decline. At this time (1823) he was unanimously 
re-elected. He accepted the invitation and made imme- 
diate preparations to remove to Auburn. 

The following extracts reveal his feelings on leaving 
Newark, and going to his new field of labor. From Al- 
bany he writes to his daughter: 

"How good is the Lord! Mercy, great mercy is mingled 
with the trial attendant on my removal. Words cannot express 
the tenderness I feel towards you and your dear family, and others 
left behind. But I dare not allow myself to look back. I trust I 
have been directed by the finger of Providence, and I feel encour- 
aged to proceed." 

On arriving at Auburn, he again writes : 

"I cannot be thankful enough, that through the good hand 
of the Lord upon us, we have all reached the place of our des- 
tination in safety. I need not say, that every effort is making 
to render our condition as pleasant as the nature of the case will 
allow. * * The Seminary opens to-day. My inauguration is 
to take place next Wednesday. May the Lord enable me to meet 
the occasion with a becoming spirit." 

On Wednesday, October 29th, 1823, just fifty-six 
years from the day of his birth, he was inaugurated Pro- 
fessor of Christian Theology. His address, delivered on 
the occasion, was characterized by clear and enlarged 
views of the importance of a well-trained ministry, and 



36 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

furnished to a large audience pleasing promise of his 
usefulness in the responsible place to which he had been 
called. 

In entering upon his duties, Dr. Richards aimed, first 
of all, to meet responsibilities connected with his own 
particular department; and, secondly, to labor for the 
general welfare of the Seminary. Accordingly, his 
studies were made subordinate mainly to the range of 
instruction which he was called to impart. He carefully 
availed himself of everything furnished by the press, 
which had a particular relation to his official work, or 
which promised to aid him in the discharge of its duties. 

We have already intimated that, for two years pre- 
vious to his coming, the Seminary had been struggling 
for life. Much had been done — nay, all that could have 
been expected. The Trustees had put forth vigorous 
efforts. The citizens of Auburn, especially those whose 
views led them to sympathize with the religious features 
of the Seminary, had liberally cherished its infancy. 
Yet what had been done seemed only to reveal how 
much needed to be accomplished. No permanent pro- 
vision had been made to sustain professors, who had 
hitherto " borne the burden and heat of the day/' and 
whose unsettled livings required faith in God much like 
Elijah's, when he received his food from the ravens. 
An edifice, containing a main building and two wings, 
had been erected ; but no part, with the exception of one 
wing, was ready for the reception of students. The In- 
stitution was destitute of scholarships or charity founda- 
tions ; it could scarcely welcome indigent young men to 
a shelter, much less to bread or raiment. 

Such was the state of the Institution at the inaugura- 
tion of Dr. Richards. Funds were to be raised to com- 
plete and furnish the Seminary edifice, to secure an ade- 
quate Library, to found Professorships, and to aid such 
young men as were destitute of means, and yet were 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 37 

willing to spend and be spent in the office of the Gospel 
Ministry. 

To this work the new Professor addressed his well- 
adapted energies. By correspondence, by personal vis- 
its, by his influence in conventions and ecclesiastical 
bodies, he most earnestly commended the Seminary to 
the attention, the prayers and the charities of the Chris- 
tian public. 

The following extract is a specimen of his epistolary 
efforts in behalf of indigent students, and was written, 
just after his inauguration, to his eldest daughter : 

" Five of our young men are yet unprovided for, and though 
we have expected from various quarters, I am anxious for the 
result. I want you to state the fact to our pious and benevolent 

female friends in N . Fifty dollars would be sufficient to pay 

the seminary bill of a single student for a year. It would be 
gratifying to me, and would confer a lasting obligation on the In- 
stitution, if a little exertion could be made among you for our 
relief at the present time. Who would not be willing, in a case 
so urgent and important, to throw in her mite, and thus bid God 
speed to a youth who is anxious and trembling lest he should be 
stopped in his course." 

In the course of a few weeks, he alludes to an answer 
to the foregoing appeal, under the name of " The Newark 
foundation" 

Early in February, he visited Albany and Troy, in 
behalf of the Institution. From the latter place he 
writes : 

"lam trying to do something for the Seminary, and T find a 
little time is necessary to beat down prejudice, and get the current 
into the right channel. My subscription in Troy stands this morn- 
ing at $312. I hope to bring it up to four or five hundred." 

From Albany he also writes : 

" I perceive already that I have many prejudices to combat, and 
the loving-money-principlc, the greatest of all obstacles, to over- 



38 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

come. Nothing but the strongest fortitude, supported by a few of the 
choicest friends, can avail me now. I believe that I am in a good 
cause, and that the Lord is on my side. * * * The present efforts, I 
consider merely in the light of an entering wedge ; but the wedge 
I shall drive as long as I can perceive that it moves at all. * * * 
Time alone, with good management, can induce the Albanians to 
turn their attention to Auburn." 

He returned home, after an absence of about three 
weeks, having raised in money and subscriptions a little 
more than twelve hundred dollars, besides receiving a 
pledge that a society should be formed in each place for 
the support of indigent students in the Seminary. 

In the following summer he visited Boston in behalf 
of the child of his adoption. 

On the 3d of July, he writes to his daughter : 

" I find nothing can be done here by being in a hurry. The 
Boston folks are full of notions, and both time and skill are requi- 
site to get the thing by the right handle." 

On the 9th, he writes to Mrs. Richards as follows : 

" Yesterday was the first time I put my hook down, after spend- 
ing two weeks in baiting and getting ready. Three pretty clever 
fellows were taken in the course of the day, with one hundred 
dollars a piece. * * * I know your impatience. * * * But I must 
do right, and not sacrifice the interests of the Institution to my 
personal feelings." 

During the same visit, he made an appeal in New York 
City, in behalf of the Seminary. He was encouraged in 
this effort by a letter written by Dr. Spring, of the Brick 
Church, from Philadelphia, of which the following is an 
extract : 

"It is a critical moment with your Seminary, and I trust that 
the good people of New York will feel that it must be supported. 
T hope your appeal will not be fruitless ; and if my sentiments can 
be of any avail, you will make just such use of them as you see fit." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 39 

The result of this " appeal " may be learned from the 
following extract of a letter from Dr. Richards, written 
a few months after. 

u The news from New York, in regard to the Seminary, is quite 
cheering. The §12,000 professorship is made up by seven men 
of the Brick Church, and the prospects for the Library are flatter- 
ing. Let God have the glory." 

In October, 1825, he visited Philadelphia as an agent 
for the Seminary. He writes : 

M I have thought it probable that I should not receive enough 
to pay my expenses to and from the place. Last evening I was 
brought to feel perfectly willing to receive the crumbs that fall 
from my Master's table : and you may judge of my surprise, when 
the first two crumbs amounted to twelve hundred dollars. * * * 
I suppose that my movements here will not be very grateful to 
some of my brethren, but if my success shall prove considerable , I 
shall not be greatly moved at the trouble which I occasion." 

Again, four days after, he writes : 

u My subscription stands here at eighteen hundred and ninety 
dollars. * * * We have here a few tried friends, but the greater 
part neither know us, or care any more for us, than if we lived 
in Kamschatka. In time to come, however, some will doubtless 
remember us ; and pains must be taken to circulate among the 
good people of this city a knowledge of our Institution." 

The Board of Trustees speak of this visit to Philadel- 
phia as follows : 

li His particular object was the establishment of a fund for the 
Professorship of Biblical Criticism. During his journey, he procured 
for that fund, in cash, notes and subscriptions, about $2,850, and 
the donation of two hundred and twenty-five acres of land, from 
which will probably be realized at least four hundred dollars. 

Early in the following spring he visited Geneva, Can- 
andaigua, Geneseo, and other towns in Western New 



40 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

York, everywhere making a favorable impression in 
behalf of the young " school of the prophets/ 5 and urging 
its claims to the attention and charities of the 
churches. 

In September, 1826, or during the vacation of the 
Seminary, he traveled east, associating his relaxation 
from the duties of a Professor with the labors of a Soli- 
citing Agent. He first visited his former congregation 
in Newark, and, in connection with his friendly calls 
upon the people, presented the claims of the Seminary, 
signifying that donations in aid of that infant institution 
would be received as the most grateful tokens which 
the donors could render of esteem and love for their 
former pastor. These kind solicitations, during this 
visit, resulted in a subscription of nearly a thousand 
dollars. As he continued his journeyings, his ruling 
passion constantly betrayed itself, both on sea and land ; 
and on the boat which carried him to New Haven, to 
attend the commencement of Yale College, he secured 
from one individual a pledge of five hundred dollars. 
In allusion to this individual he writes, " How kindly 
did the Lord bring him in my way, and how favorably 
did he dispose his heart !" 

The foregoing notices are submitted to the reader, in 
connection, to serve not only as indications of the general 
care which Dr. Richards exercised over the Seminary, 
but also of his readiness to " endure hardness " and toil 
to give it character, and influence, and permanency. It 
may be observed that several journeyings of this kind 
were performed during a recess or vacation, and thus 
his days of rest were used in the prosecution of the most 
arduous labors ; while some of them were performed in 
the depth of winter, or early in the spring, thus sub- 
jecting his health to serious exposure and detriment. 
Besides, an absence from the bosom of his family, at an 
age when " sweet home " seems indispensable to render 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 4J[ 

one's condition tolerable, is an item not to be overlooked 
in estimating the self-sacrificing character of these ser- 
vices. 

The following extract from a letter written to Mrs. 
Richards, during the absence last noticed, will show 
both the self-denial and the object of this kind of labor: 

"I know your privations occasioned by my absence; but, be- 
lieve it, they are not greater on your part than on mine. The 
longer I live, the more your society and home are necessary to my 
happiness. * * * It is nothing but a sense of duty that can 
keep me away from home. But the Seminary must live and 
prosper, or neither you nor I can be happy. Yet there is a higher 
motive to direct us — the cause of truth and righteousness in the 
earth. The Auburn institution is destined, I trust, to be an effi- 
cient school of the prophets. It will live and be blessed, I have 
no doubt, generations after we are dead ; and still its future use- 
fulness may be closely connected with the momentum which is 
given to it in its infancy." 

The years 1826, '27 were fraught with trials to the 
church in which Dr. Richards, both from his experience 
and position, would be expected strongly to sympathize. 
They were years of much religious excitement. This 
excitement had an intimate connection with the labors 
of Rev. Charles G. Finney as principal, and with the 
labors of subordinates, both ministers and laymen. The 
subordinates, in many things, were more extravagant 
than the principal ; and their numbers were considerable 
throughout Central and Western New York. It was 
thought by many that some of the measures which were 
adopted by these evangelists, though they " zealously 
affected " men, did not affect them " well." Anxious 
seats were extensively used ; females, in many instances, 
were encouraged to speak and pray in promiscuous 
assemblies; individuals were often prayed for in the 
churches, either by name, or in some other way by 
which they were made known to the congregation. 
3 



42 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

The preaching, also, as a means of excitement, was 
strikingly conformed to other measures which were used. 
The truth, though in many instances preached with 
fidelity, nevertheless was presented with a severity of 
tone and manner which strongly excited the passions of 
the hearers, and thus prevented its access to the conscience 
and the heart. And the praying, in many instances, 
w T as scarcely less severe than the preaching. Some, in- 
deed, seemed to regard its efficacy as depending much 
upon the strong and denunciatory language and epithets 
under which sinners were commended to the mercy of 
God. 

This feature in prayer was particularly developed 
when men high in official station were made the subjects 
of its supplications. The reason for this which seemed 
to obtain was, that the position of such men gave them 
an influence which, if they did not approve the measures, 
and encourage them, would prove specially disastrous, 
and contribute to shut up the kingdom of heaven against 
men. Thus, when pastors of churches, presidents of 
colleges and professors in theological seminaries were 
reluctant to go with the current, they were subject, in 
some instances, to abusive and slanderous epithets in the 
form of prayer. They were presented before the throne 
of mercy as "dead," as "unconverted," as " opposers of 
revivals of religion," as " keeping sinners out of heaven," 
and "encouraging them in their way to perdition." The 
venerable President of Hamilton College is said to have 
been prayed for as an " old gray-headed sinner, leading souls 
down to hell; and the writer distinctly recollects a prayer- 
meeting within sight of that college, in which the plea 
was urged with great fervor, that God would raze the icalls 
of its buildings, if necessary to bring the President and 
some of his associates to give countenance to the exist- 
ing state of things! 

The coming of Mr. Finney to Auburn, as an evange- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 43 

list, subjected Dr. Richards to the same treatment which 
men of similar views had received in other places. He 
and some of his associates in the Faculty of the Seminary 
were not prepared to regard the "new measures" as consti- 
tuting the " more excellent way " in promoting the work 
of God. His cautious feet, therefore, avoided the way 
which his judgment could not approve. Such a position, 
taken by a prominent professor in a Theological Seminary, 
excited considerable attention, and exposed him to the 
animadversion of those who approved of the existing state 
of things. He was regarded as standing in the way of the 
work of the Lord. He was subjected to much unkind 
remark, and his position is said to have been especially 
recognized in prayer, in some of the pulpits within sight 
of the Seminary. It was deemed a strange thing that 
the Professor would not " break down " in such circum- 
stances, and unite his energies and influence with those 
of the young evangelist. But Dr. Richards was not a 
man to " break down," or even bend, in violation of his 
own moral sense, and in utter disregard of the solemn 
and abundant teachings of his own experience. He was 
not a stranger in Jerusalem, and therefore ignorant of 
the history of things which had there occurred. The 
extravagances of Davenport and his coadjutors had taken 
place but a quarter of a century before his birth, and he 
had learned them from the lips of his parents. At the 
time of his own conversion, the church had not recovered 
from their disastrous influence, and his own spiritual 
infancy had been subjected to severe trials from the 
very prejudice against religion which these excesses had 
created. His own experience also, as a pastor, was abund- 
ant, for he had served the church thirty years in this 
relation. The fields of his labors had enjoyed " refresh- 
ings from the presence of the Lord," and he had learned 
that discrimination, tenderness and meekness, as well as 
boldness and zeal, were indispensable in such seasons. 



44 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

He was therefore jealous of the existing movements. 
While he did not doubt that some good would be done, 
he deprecated the evils which his knowledge led him to 
anticipate. He trembled lest, while some should be 
converted, others, whose souls were of equal value, 
would become disgusted, and be driven to " a returnless 
distance " from the Gospel. He anticipated, also, that 
these things would engender strife in the church, rather 
than contribute to the " unity of the Spirit in the bond 
of peace " — nay, that, on the whole, more would be lost 
to religion and to Zion than would be gained. He was 
constrained, therefore, as an honest man, to abstain from 
these measures. And the position seemed, in the cir- 
cumstances, as hazardous as it was independent. The 
Seminary was in its infancy, and not prepared for the 
shock of revolution, and yet here was an honest differ- 
ence of views in the house of its friends, on important 
matters and in scenes of great interest and excitement. 
The congregation in which Mr. Finney was preaching 
had nobly contributed to give birth to the Seminary, 
and to cherish its infancy. The pastor of the congrega- 
tion was " one of the prime and most efficient agents in 
measures which had led to its establishment/ 5 had served 
several years as one of its professors, and had just re- 
signed his professorship and retired with the blessing of 
the Institution upon his head. Also the students of the 
Seminary, to a considerable extent — young men of the 
first promise as to talents and piety — were led to wonder 
that their venerated Professor should not yield to the 
voice of his friends, and to, what seemed to them, the 
voice of duty Rarely is one's position more trying than 
was that of Dr. Richards at this time. Had he yielded, 
he could certainly have urged very plausible, and what, to 
some minds, would have been regarded as the most 
satisfactory and important reasons, for so doing. He 
could have urged the wishes of his friends, who loved 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



45 



Christ and his cause — the danger of seeming to oppose 
the work of God — the importance of union of action be- 
tween himself and many who endeavored, at least, to 
bear with objectionable measures, in the hope that much 
good would be done. Nay, he could have said that he 
had acted advisedly, and under the influence of convic- 
tion expressed by his friends — that his influence, if given 
to the work, would strongly operate as a check upon any 
excesses which might exist. 

But Dr. Richards was immovable. He could not yield 
contrary to his convictions of duty. And it is believed, 
that when the excitement had subsided, the honor award- 
ed to his firmness and judgment was equal to the reproach 
to which he had been subjected. Many, it is believed, 
who then honestly differed from him, have since been 
ready to bless him for Zion's sake, for the position which 
he maintained. The Christian community, also, reposed 
in him augmented confidence from that day, and the im- 
pression extensively obtained, that he who could pre- 
side so safely over a Theological Seminary " in the 
palmy days of Evangelism," might be safely trusted, 
under God, in any emergency which such an institu- 
tion might be called to experience. 

The labors of Dr. Richards as a soliciting agent, though 
already continued much longer than he had intended, 
were not entirely laid aside. During the recess of the 
Seminary, in January, 1827, he visited Rochester, and 
received several hundred dollars, in aid chiefly of the 
contingent fund of the Institution. Subsequent to this 
date, however, he went abroad in person much less than 
formerly, though his appeals to the benevolent, by letter, 
continued to the close of his life. 

In the winter of 1827-28 his health seriously de- 
clined. His disease was a species of jaundice, which 
interrupted his labors as a professor, and, at times, com- 
pelled him wholly to suspend them. The writer, then 



4g BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

a member of the Institution, is able to testify that the 
suspension, however, was much less than the case seemed 
to demand. Often did he meet this venerable teacher 
in the lecture-room, when the retirement of his chamber 
and his bed seemed more fitting the state of his health. 
Of this illness, he writes to his eldest daughter in the 
spring of 1828, as follows : 

" I have suffered more this winter from indisposition, than from 
any former one since I have resided in Auburn. * * Life's 
brief journey, with all its changes, its joys and its sorrows, will 
soon close. Too apt are we to forget how rapidly time hastens? 
and what amazing interests hang on it." 

About two months after he writes again : 

" What the Lord intends to do with me he wisely and kindly 
conceals in his own bosom. Perhaps he intends the restoration of 
my health and usefulness — perhaps he is about to bring all my 
earthly concerns to a close. I desire to leave the whole matter 
with him, and to rest contented with his sovereign will." 

But while he thus submitted his case to the " sovereign 
will of God," he did not omit the use of such means as 
promised to restore his health. He remitted his ordinary 
studies — journeyed as he was able — purchased a horse 
and carriage as a means of frequent exercise in riding — 
visited mineral springs — and even read books to learn 
both the nature of his disease and its appropriate reme- 
dies. The following letter to his daughter may here 
find an appropriate place : 

" I have lately been attending to chemistry myself, that I might 
form something of a judgment as to the nature of various chemical 
preparations which my physicians have prescribed. I perceive that 
in some cases they have been manifestly counterworking them- 
selves. I have read some of the most celebrated medical works on 
the nature and treatment of the jaundice, and other biliary affec- 
tions — a poor business, the doctors will say, for a sick man — and I 
do not think it time misspent. Somebody must decide when the 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



47 



doctors disagree. I greatly respect the profession, and I do not 
mean to assume to myself any claim to judge for other people, nor 
even in my own case without the aid of professional advisers. But 
I do not intend to descend into the ditch blindfold, and without 
the least inquiry ; but among all the guessing and conjecturing, 
guess a little myself. One of my conjectures is, that I have taken 
too much medicine by half, and sometimes that which is injurious." 

In the Spring of 1829 he received a severe injury 
from his horse, which at first seemed to threaten a fatal 
termination. He was assisting his servant in harnessing 
the animal, when it suddenly started, and throwing him 
down, planted both hind feet upon his chest, in the re- 
gion of the stomach. In allusion to this event he writes 
as follows : 

" I was enabled to rise and walk, but with such fainting and 
trembling as I apprehended would be attended with immediate dis- 
solution. * * How true it is, that in the midst of life we are 
in death ; and that when our hopes are most buoyant with respect 
to our usefulness and comfort, we may be on the eve of closing 
our pilgrimage altogether." 

In connection with his other infirmities, he was visited 
about this time with a cancerous affection in his nose, 
whose removal somewhat disfigured his noble and manly 
countenance. He speaks of it as follows : 

u The cancerous disorder in my nose is entirely healed, but will 
leave, I think, a depression which, if I might have had my choice, 
I would have avoided. But this is a small matter, when weighed 
against many other evils, to which both body and soul stand ex- 
posed. * * It is good to have the sentence of death in our- 
selves. * * It weans us from the world; it carries our thoughts 
to another and better state of being." 

The illness of Dr. Richards, extending over a space of 
nearly two years, proved a serious embarrassment to the 
Seminary. When it commenced there were 76 students 
— the largest number furnished to the Institution at one 



48 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

time since its commencement. But from this year a de- 
cline began. Some, who were on the ground, left for 
other Seminaries ; and others, who had intended to pur- 
sue their theological course at Auburn, were prevented. 
The knowledge of Dr. Richard's illness was propagated, 
not only through his own State, but through New Eng- 
land — furnishing an argument to those who desired to 
turn the attention of young men to other institutions. 
To the decline thus begun, several other adverse influ- 
ences essentially contributed. One was the decline of 
Hamilton College, which had been a liberal feeder to 
the Seminary, but which, just at this time, was sending 
from its walls few, if any, candidates for the Gospel min- 
istry. Another, perhaps, was the establishment of a 
Theological Seminary in New Haven, Ct., to which many 
young men were attracted, both by the high literary 
character of the place, and also by the announcement 
that " some important discoveries in theology had there 
been made/' 

About the beginning of 1830, Dr. Richards' health 
had become essentially improved, and he applied him- 
self to his duties with renewed courage and energy. 
He writes at this time : 

" It is difficult for you, or any one not acquainted with the in- 
ternal concerns of such an institution, readily to perceive the 
amount of labor demanded of an instructor. The mere correspond- 
ence connected with the institution, the chief of which falls on 
my shoulders, is not a trifling operation. But, thanks to a gracious 
Providence, my health has been wonderfully preserved, and still 
continues to improve." 

Dr. Richards was ever ready to shoulder responsibility, 
in an emergency. This feature of his character made 
him a most efficient helper of those who had the over- 
sight of the finances of the Institution, and greatly en- 
couraged them in their efforts, especially in seasons of 
embarrassment and trial. An instance occurred like 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 49 

this. The heart of one of the Trustees, at a certain time, 
fainted within him, in view of the difficulties which beset 
the Seminary. He was freely indulging in his gloomy 
forebodings, when it was announced that, in view of the 
state of things, Dr. Richards would leave home the next 
morning, with the design of seeking aid for the Institu- 
tion. His desponding spirit was immediately relieved, 
and he exclaimed, Then the Seminary will go ! — 

THEN IT WILL GO ! 

In the year 1830, the Treasurer of the Board of 
Trustees reported that the Seminary was in debt ten 
thousand dollars, and that this debt was increasing from 
six to eight hundred dollars annually. In this state of 
things, the Professors agreed to throw off two hundred 
dollars each from their salaries, annually, until such time 
as the Trustees should be able to pay the stipulated 
sums, provided that the Boards of Trustees and Commis- 
sioners should, within one year, raise the sum of twelve 
thousand dollars, to be employed for the use of the Semi- 
nary, and to meet its existing engagements. 

The year closed, and but seven thousand dollars had 
been secured. The Professors generously extended the 
probation from August to January. In the mean time, 
Dr. Richards took his pen. He prepared a brief narra- 
tive of the rise and progress of the Institution, setting 
forth its embarrassments and successes, its prospects and 
claims, connected with an offer of a liberal personal 
contribution, and a pungent appeal to all whom it might 
concern. 

On the 30th of January 1832, he alludes to the effort 
of the Trustees, in a letter as follows : 

" Our enterprise of raising $12,000 for the Seminary before the 
18th of this month has succeeded ; at which, you may well believe, 
I rejoice. It has thrown from me a heavy load of care and respon- 
sibility." 



50 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

The anxieties and labors of Dr. Richards, which had 
looked to the general welfare of the Seminary, and which, 
for the space of twelve years, had been exceedingly 
burdensome, were somewhat relieved in 1835, by the 
accession of Rev. S. H. Cox, D.D., to the Professorship 
of Sacred Rhetoric and Pastoral Theology. He entered 
upon his duties in the fullness of his strength. Besides 
performing the appropriate services of his own depart- 
ment, he instructed, for a time, in Ecclesiastical Litera- 
ture, and performed much labor for the Seminary in the 
form of raising funds. His coming was opportune, both 
on account of the "often infirmities" of Dr. Richards, 
and the decease of Dr. Perrine, which occurred during 
the following winter. He " who tempers the wind to 
the shorn lamb/' being about to remove one public serv- 
ant to his final rest, graciously introduced another, 
whose versatility of talent and form of services, seemed 
particularly adapted to the emergency. 

The compiler may here introduce an extract from a 
minute passed by the Board of Commissioners, on the 
decease of Dr. Perrine : 

" But while we mourn our loss, in that he has been called to 
his reward, we would render unfeigned thanks that he was permit- 
ted so long and so abl}^ to employ the powers of his discriminating 
mind, and the sympathies of his warm heart, in the service of this 
beloved institution." 

The years of 1837 and '38 are never to be forgotten 
in the Presbyterian Church. The act of the General As- 
sembly, in its summary excision of four Synods, was 
matter of extreme pain and mortification to thousands of 
the best men in the church, and to none more than to 
Dr. Richards. He lived in the heart of one, and in the 
immediate neighborhood of two more, of the Synods thus 
cut off. His position furnished him means of knowing 
their character both as to doctrine and practice. He 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 5 J 

was engaged in teaching Theology, in a Seminary 
specially fostered by these Synods ; and if views of doc- 
trine and church order had prevailed upon this field, 
essentially different from those taught in its own Semi- 
nary, he must have known it. Yet he was able to see 
no adequate cause for the amputation which took place. 
Though he had taken occasion to resist some " new mea- 
sures," which at different times, and in different places 
had received some favor; and also some innovations 
in doctrine, which, originating in other fields, had been 
brought into Western New York ; yet he firmly believed 
that the church and ministry connected with these Syn- 
ods, as a whole, deserved a place among the first in the 
order and faith of the Presbyterian name. And though 
he regretted to be separated from the ecclesiastical rec- 
ognition of brethren, to w T hom his soul had been knit 
through all his Christian and ministerial history, yet (to 
use the language of Dr. Cox, one of his colleagues) he 
preferred to be of the exscinded rather than of the ex- 
scinding. 

The proceedings of the General Assembly in this 
matter turned all eyes to Dr. Richards. Some who had 
used the ecclesiastical knife, and even numbered him 
among their victims, seemed to expect that he would 
approve their views and proceedings. On the other 
hand, the severed and bleeding Synods relied with the 
confidence of children upon his sympathy and counsel 
in the day of trouble. His brethren at the East who 
regretted the exscinding act, and deprecated a schism 
in the Presbyterian Church, wrote to him as to a father, 
asking his counsel and bespeaking his attendance at 
Philadelphia in the spring of 1838, that the Assembly 
might have the benefit of his counsels. Others wrote 
to him, anxiously inquiring after the real character of 
the exscinded Synods for Christian faith and practice. 
The following letter, written to his daughter, who had 



52 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

expressed some anxiety in regard to his appointment as 
a commissioner for the spring of 1838, reveals the spirit 
by which his conduct was regulated in this day of re- 
buke, and his confidence in those whom he was appointed 
to represent : 

a You express some anxiety about my being appointed a dele- 
gate to the next General Assembly. If life and health are spared, 
I expect to fulfill that appointment ; but I do not feel myself pledged 
to any course of violence. * * * The brethren in this region 
feel quite calm on the subject — disposed, however, to do that which, 
after prayer, much counsel and reflection, shall seem meet to be 
done. The condition of things in the Church, as well as in the 
State, it must be confessed, is quite ominous at present ; but we 
pray and look for a brighter day. I know of nothing better for us 
as individuals than to put everything over into the hands of infi- 
nite wisdom and goodness, and cheerfully leave the issue with 
Him who governs all." 

In allusion to the Convention at Auburn, which was 
held in August following the spring of 1837, and com- 
posed of representatives of the exscinded Synods, and 
others sympathizing with them, he says : 

a Much do I regret that there was any occasion for such a mea- 
sure ; but I hope the Lord will overrule it for good. Great har- 
mony of sentiment and feeling prevailed among the members of 
the Convention, and a good spirit, I trust, towards our brethren of 
the Old School. They have acted, we think, under great misap- 
prehension of the facts in the case." 

In November, 1838, he addressed the following to 
Rev. Joseph C. Stiles, of Kentucky, in answer to inqui- 
ries proposed concerning the religious doctrines and 
order of the "exscinded" in Central and Western New 
York : 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 53 

November 13, 1838. 
To the Rev. J. C. Stiles : 

My Dear Sir — I regret that my engagements will not allow 
me to give you a full and detailed account of the ecclesiastical 
affairs of Western New York. All I can do is briefly to reply to 
your several queries. You ask, first, What is the degree of cor- 
ruption in doctrine and order around me, in my judgment. 

I belong to the Synod of Geneva, which embraces two hundred 
and one churches — one hundred and forty organized with a session 
on strictly Presbyterian principles, and sixty-one which have no 
session, but which make use of our Book of Discipline in their 
church courts, and submit their acts and doings to the supervision 
of Presbytery as much as if they had a session. They are, in fact, 
Presbyterian churches with a defective organization. Instead of 
doing their business by means of a bench of Elders, they do it by 
assembling the male communicants, after the Congregational 
method. One of our Presbyteries, which has under its care thirty- 
nine churches, has but two which are not strictly Presbyterian. 
Another, embracing twenty-five churches, has not a single church 
without a regular session. 

Presbyterianism is popular in this part of the country, and with 
a little kind and prudent management, it might become universal. 
Nothing but the untimely fears and mistaken policy of some of the 
good brethren in other parts of the church, has prevented it from 
becoming far more prevalent than it really is. 

" As to corruption in doctrine, I know of none which is deep 
and fundamental among the ministers and churches which stand 
connected with our Synod. The ministers have all solemnly pro- 
fessed to receive the Confession of Faith, and the Catechism of 
our church, as containing that system of doctrine which is taught 
in the Holy Scriptures. At the same time, I do not suppose that 
they consider this as amounting to a declaration that they receive 
every proposition included in this extended confession, but such 
things only as are vital to the system, and which distinguish it 
from Arminianism, Pelagianism and Semipelagianism. They be- 
lieve in the doctrine of total depravity by nature — Regeneration by 
the Sovereign and efficacious influence of the Holy Spirit — Justifi- 
cation by the righteousness of Christ, as the only true and merito- 
rious cause — the -perseverance of the saints, and the interminable 
punishment of the wicked. They have no scruple about the doc- 
trine of particular and personal election, but maintain it firmly as 



54 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

a doctrine of the Bible which ought to have a place in the instruc- 
tions of the pulpit. 

u As to our churches, their opinions may be learned from the 
brief confessions they use in admitting members to full communion. 
It is the custom in this part of the country, when a person is ad- 
mitted to the fellowship of the church upon his own confession, to 
require a public assent to a creed embracing all the great leading 
doctrines of the Gospel, as well as his solemn and explicit engage- 
ment to lead a life of devoted piety. It is common for each Pres- 
bytery to supervise the creeds made use of by the churches under 
its care. Knowing this to be the fact, I addressed a letter to each 
of the Presbyteries in the bounds of the four exscinded Synods, re- 
questing them to state whether these confessions, employed at the 
admission of members to their communion, were conformable in 
their tenor and spirit to the Confession of Faith and Catechisms of 
our church, desiring them at the same time to send me a sample 
of them. The answer I received was, that these brief formulas 
fully accorded with the Confession of Faith of the Presbyterian 
Church. I have now before me twenty-six of these confessions 
from as many Presbyteries ; and if I have any judgment as to what 
belongs to orthodoxy, they are sound as a roach, with the excep- 
tion of the article on Atonement. They favor the idea of general 
atonement, as John Calvin and the earty Reformers did. Some, 
I suppose, would regard this as deviating from our standards ; 
but, aside from this, I do not believe that Dr. Green himself would 
find any fault with these confessions. I say this confidently with 
respect to them all, one alone excepted. In one of these confes- 
sions there was not so full a recognition of the Divine decree ex- 
tending to all events absolutely as I could desire, and yet the lan- 
guage of Scripture was employed, which asserts that God governs 
or works all things after the counsel of his own will.* Is it to 
be supposed that ministers would demand, or the people from time 
to time would give their public and solemn assent to these confes- 
sions, if they were very far gone in heretical opinions 1 Can you 
get people in our Methodist Churches to subscribe to strong and 



* Some half a dozen lines are here omitted, on account of an injury done to the 
paper, by which some words are lost. The idea, however, is this : " These con- 
fessions, instead of being got up by these Presbyteries to defend their orthodoxy, 
have been adopted to govern the faith of the churches under their care, and to 
serve as bonds of Christian fellowship." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



55 



pointed Calvinistic formulas, supposing that their ministers were 
willing and desirous that they should 1 

" But if this be a true state of the case, whence the alarm which 
has pervaded every part of the Presbyterian Church, with respect 
to our Aminianism, Pelagianism, Perfectionism, and I know not 
what. Has there been no ground for the fears and suspicions 
which have been entertained 1 I cannot conscientiously say that 
I think there has been none. A state of things has existed which 
excited apprehensions that some were departing from the faith once 
delivered to the saints. 

" During the excitements which prevailed under the labors of 
Messrs. Burchard and Finney, and their associates, things were 
said and done which had better have been avoided. A new style 
of preaching was introduced, new measures adopted and advocated, 
and, occasionally, new opinions advanced touching the prayer of 
faith, the method of the Spirit's influence in conversion, and the 
best method of securing that influence and promoting the conver- 
sion of sinners. No direct encroachment, however, was made 
upon any of the great doctrines of the Gospel. These were cheer- 
fully admitted, and some of them distinctly and powerfully incul- 
cated. But a notion was imbibed that the doctrine of election, 
and of the sinner's dependence on Divine influence, and some 
other doctrines of the Calvinistic system had heretofore been urged 
out of due proportion, and that more ought to be said of the sin- 
ner's immediate obligation to repent and believe. In pressing 
this obligation, they urged the sinner's entire ability to comply 
with the terms of the Gospel. In a word, they taught that sinners 
could, but would not, repent without special Divine influence. 
Many believed then, and do still believe, that their language on 
this subject was unguarded, and likely to produce an Arminian 
impression on the hearer. That such was the fact in numerous 
instances, there is no reason to question. Some of Mr. F.inney's 
converts doubted whether he believed in the doctrine of election, 
and wrote to him, while he was in Boston, to know if he did. He 
answered that he did believe the doctrine, and that they ought to 
believe it. 

u From the manner, however, in which some of our preachers 
at that time presented the truths of the Gospel, and especially 
from the fact that they did not very prominently present some of 
them at all, there wa3 danger that an Arminian leaven would creep 
in, and corrupt the faith of the churches. This danger was not 



56 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

lessened by the speculations of the New Haven divines, and by 
some other dubious writings from New England. 

" After all, through the good hand of God upon us, I do not 
believe that any radical error has taken root among us, and is 
likely to prevail. I speak of the churches in our own connection. 
There is scattered through our bounds a set of Christians called 
Unionists, who hold the doctrine of sinless perfection, and other 
absurd notions. But they are not of us, and receive no counte- 
nance from any of our judicatories. Were you to ask me to name 
the minister or the church in our Synod who did not fully and un- 
qualifiedly believe in the doctrine of the total depravity of human 
nature-) in regeneration by the influence of the Holy Spirit^ in per- 
sonal election and justification by faith through the righteousness of 
Christ only, I could not do it. I have much the same impressions, 
with respect to the Synods of Utica and Genesee, and the Synod 
of the Western Reserve ; but I am not as well acquainted with 
the members of these Synods. Still, it is true we do not all see 
eye to eye. There are shades of difference in some less important 
matters. What these are, I have neither time nor room to state 
to you. But allow me, in conclusion, to say, that in my judg- 
ment, there never was a greater mistake, than that under which 
our Old School brethren are laboring. 

" 1st. As to the prevalence of error in the exscinded Synods. 

" 2d. As to its cause. The state of belief is not as they sup- 
pose it. Nor do the errors which have been supposed to exist owe 
their origin to any such cause as they ascribe them to. They seem 
to think that Congregationalism has done all the mischief. It has 
had no more influence in the case than the moons of Jupiter. Our 
Congregational Churches, as a general fact, are the most stable 
and thorough orthodox churches we have. But my sheet is full, 
and I have only room to say, that I left the Constitutional Assem- 
bly last Spring, from ill health alone. 

u With much affection, I am truly yours, 

" JAMES RICHARDS." 

It may be proper to add, that the schism in his beloved 
church never seemed to diminish his love for either of 
its parts, though it threw his sympathies on the side of 
the exscinded. In relation to this whole matter, he 
entertained the most kind and conciliatory spirit. He 
loved those who had cut him off from their body as though 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



57 



he were an unworthy and gangrened limb. He studiously- 
avoided everything that looked like impatience, in word 
and deed. Nor did he feel any pride in the appellation 
by which he and his exscinded brethren were distinguished 
from others from whom they were separated. His tem- 
per of mind, at this point, is happily illustrated by the 
following incident : 

An aged woman, who had enjoyed his early ministry, 
was permitted to hear him preach subsequent to the 
exscinding acts. As she was walking from the church, 
in conversation with Mrs. Richards, she inquired, Is Dr. 
Richards an Old School man or a New School man ? 
Mrs. R., not disposed to answer the question, referred it 
to her husband — when he replied, " My dear, I hope that 
I belong to the School of Christ." 

As the infirmities of age increased, Dr. Richards re- 
ceived great pleasure, in view of the brightening pros- 
pects, and increasing influence and usefulness of the 
Seminary. He welcomed, most cordially, his brethren 
who, from time to time, were added to its Board of In- 
struction ; and received, with the sympathy and affection 
of a father, the young men who came to enjoy the privi- 
leges which it furnished. 

In October, 1839, he thus writes : 

" Dr. Dickinson and Dr. Halsey are both on the ground. The 
Seminary seems to be looking up, so far as officers and students 
are concerned. The professorships are all filled with their appro- 
priate incumbents, and a large class of new students have entered." 

It is proper to add, that he lived to see the Institution 
recovered from its decline in the number of its pupils, 
and enjoying a state of prosperity, embarrassed only by 
want of adequate funds. 

It will be observed that the compiler has dwelt much 
upon the care and labor of Dr. Richards in behalf of the 
general and financial interests of the Seminary. The 
4 



58 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



reasons for this are the following : 1. The means in the 
hands of the compiler, from which any connected his- 
tory of his residence at Auburn can be formed, are 
chiefly letters written by himself to the member of 
his own family, and in these letters he refers mainly 
to the general interests of the Seminary, and his ]abors 
to promote them. 2. The character of Dr. Richards^ 
simply as a professor or teacher in the Seminary, will be 
given in another place ; and 3. His character and influ- 
ence in all his relations to the Institution could not be 
made known to the public, only by a course similar to 
the one we have pursued. 

Nominally, Dr. Richards held no pre-eminence in the 
Faculty of the Seminary, yet, virtually, he was the pre- 
siding officer. Nor was this all. While his health per- 
mitted he was more abundant in his labors as a traveling 
soliciting agent, than his brethren. He was also, to all 
intents, both the Corresponding Secretary and Treasurer 
of the Board of Instruction until the day of his death. 
This responsibility was not assumed or coveted, but it 
was referred to him by his associates, not only because 
their own tastes and habits inclined them to other forms 
of service, but as the result of their conviction, that his 
great influence abroad, his power of appeal, his accurate 
knowledge of the history and wants of the institution, 
his careful business habits and most rigid punctuality, 
peculiarly fitted him for these various duties. 



CHAPTER V. 



LAST SICKNESS AND DEATH. 

For several months previous to his decease, the health 
of Dr. Richards declined gradually, though there were in- 
tervals when it seemed to improve. He had long enter- 
tained the belief that he was laboring under a disease of the 
hearty and the remedies to which he resorted were chosen 
with reference to such a belief. But a post-mortem ex- 
amination showed that his disease had affected mainly 
the stomach, having materially diminished the natural 
dimensions of that important organ. Perhaps this may 
account for a gradual loss of flesh to which he was sub- 
ject, and to which he often alluded in his correspond- 
ence, even during those intervals when his health ap- 
peared in some respects to be improving. He was 
subject, at times, to a determination of blood to the 
head, and of " subsequent suspension of arterial ac- 
tion." In the autumn of 1842, while walking in the 
village of Auburn, he was suddenly seized, and fell upon 
the pavement, and was taken up in a state of almost 
entire insensibility. From this shock he never entirely 
recovered, and he regarded it as a new "sentence of 
death" passed upon him by the voice of Providence. It 
became the occasion of manifest sanctification, and there 
is reason to believe that it contributed essentially to his 
diligence in setting his house in order, and becoming 
" meet for the inheritance of the saints in light." In a 
letter written at this time he says : 

" My chief concern is, to have my house in order in relation to 



6Q BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

both worlds. Never did the Bible appear so precious to me as 
during this sickness. that I had studied its precious pages 
more !" 

While thus afflicted with bodily infirmities he became 
the subject of a most painful bereavement in the death 
of his eldest child, Mrs. Beach, which occurred at New- 
ark, New Jersey, on the 13th of December. He loved 
this daughter, not only as his first-born, but for the great 
excellence of her character. When the tidings of her 
death reached him he rose instantly from his seat, and 
with burdened heart and moistened eye, and hand raised 
toward heaven, exclaimed, "My daughter ! my first-born, 
and the beginning of my strength, the excellency of dignity 
and the excellency of power ! thou art gone to heaven 

AND I SHALL MEET THEE THERE." 

This affliction, so heavy, so sudden, and coming at a 
time when his health was feeble, the bereaved father at 
first seemed hardly able to bear. He entertained appre- 
hensions that his frame would sink under it. He there- 
fore requested that his family would forbear all expres- 
sions of grief in his presence, that he might avoid the 
accumulation of sorrow which the power of sympathy 
might occasion. After the lapse of a few days, in a 
letter to his eldest son, he notices the death of this 
daughter as follows : 

" I need not say, that in the death of your dear sister we feel 
ourselves sorely bereaved. It is an exceedingly dark and trying 
dispensation of Divine Providence, and is well calculated to teach 
us what an empty and uncertain portion the world is. * * 
Our dear A has been torn from us and her beloved fam- 
ily, suddenly and unexpectedly—but not, I trust, without being 
essentially prepared. She has for thirty years given the most 
abundant proof that her piety was sincere. Very few were so 
conscientious, so consistent and uniform, as she. Her meekness 
and gentleness, her humility and self-denial, told us of whose 
spirit she had drunk, and in whose steps she was treading. I 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ^ 

have not a particle of doubt that she has gone to be with Christ, 
which is far better. This greatly consoles us ; but the event has 
fallen out under God's government, which is still a higher and 
stronger reason for our submission. May it please the Lord to 
sanctify this visitation to us all." 

During the winter and spring his health, though pre- 
carious, was somewhat improved, and he was able to 
give considerable attention to his duties as a professor. 
He did not, however, intermit that direct preparation for 
the close of his earthly cares, to which his mind had for 
several months been particularly turned. In April, 
when his youngest son was paying him a visit, he or- 
dered his horse and carriage, and invited him to ride 
with him. The object, as the event prove d, was to 
secure an opportunity for a free and full communication 
of his views and feelings, and for imparting to his son 
the counsels of a father's heart. He remarked, on this 
occasion, that he had survived nearly all who commenced 
life with him, and that, in all probability, he was near 
his journey's end. He spoke with much emotion of 
God's dealings with him — of the way in which he had 
been led — and of the " mercy and truth " which God 
had shown him in the various and responsible relations 
which he had been called to sustain. He referred, with 
peculiar feeling, to the infirmities and sins which had 
attached themselves even to his ministry; and said that, 
after all he had tried to do for God and his kingdom, his 
hope of acceptance was founded solely on the " boundless 
riches" of Divine mercy in the Gospel. "Before the 
interview closed he turned to me," says his son, " and 
fixing his eye intently on me, said, I want you, my son, 
to be a holier man and a more useful man, than I have ever 
been" 

On the 27th of this month lie addressed a letter to his 
eldest son at Poughkeepsie, who had just lost a beloved 
child — a lad of thirteen years — by drowning. The loss 



62 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



of this son, and the circumstances of his death, had 
deeply agonized the heart of the father, and spread 
gloom over the family. The boat, containing the child 
and his elder brother, had upset in the father's presence ; 
and as he stood upon the shore, his two sons were 
struggling in the water and cleaving to the boat for life. 
Unable to give personal aid, he ran and cried for the 
help of others, but when he returned the youngest boy 
had sunk to rise no more. The body remained in the 
river for several days. The following is the substance 
of the letter written by Dr. Richards to his afflicted son 
on this occasion : 

" A letter from your brother Edward informs us that the body of 
dear little Henry had not then been found — a circumstance which 
naturally augments your trial, and prolongs its anguish. But this, 
too, is a part of God's wise design — a thing determined from eternity, 
and without which his scheme of government would be less per- 
fect. How gladly would I be with you, in this hour of darkness 
and sorrow, but the state of my health forbids. * * My prayer 
to God is, that he will be with and sustain you. It is infinitely 
easy for him to pour such a flood of light and peace into your 
mind, as not only to soften the anguish of your spirit, and enable 
you to bear without a murmur what he is pleased to lay upon you, 
but even to rejoice that he reigns and does all his pleasure, through 
all places of his dominion, leaving no one circumstance uncon- 
trolled and undirected by him. Try, my dear son, to come near 
to him, and pour your sorrows into his bosom. He has a father's 
heart infinitely more tender than that of any earthly parent. He 
never mistakes either the means of our correction, the time, or the 
measure. You may, with great confidence, cast all your care upon 
him, and roll your burdens on his arm. * * that these 
repeated strokes of affliction might have their proper effect, by 
working in us the peaceable fruits of righteousness, and working 
out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory !" 

During the same month he addressed the following- 
letter to his brother Abraham Richards, of the city of 
New York, who had just been bereaved of his wife : 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. £3 

* * " We have heard of your great affliction, in the death 
of our dear sister, highly esteemed and beloved by us all. More 
you could not lose in any earthly friend. She was all, to you and 
her dear family, that could be expected or desired. There are few 
such wives and mothers in our imperfect world, with a heart so 
tender, and a discretion so sound. She was, indeed, everybody's 
friend, and has left behind her an imperishable memorial of her 
universal and disinterested benevolence. * * It is past all doubt, 
that she has gone to be with her Saviour — and them that sleep in 
Jesus will God bring with him. You will naturally feel that you 
needed her to accompany you in the few remaining steps of life's 
journey ; but God knows what is best for us and those we love. 
Submission to his will is equally our interest and our duty. You 
and I must both feel that the morning cloud has veered far to the 
west, and will soon disappear. It is high time for us to think 
much and well upon the hour which will separate us from this 
world, and fix our destiny for an unceasing hereafter." * * * 

In the month of July, and about two weeks before his 
death, he held another conversation with his youngest son, 
who was again providentially at home, and who describes 
the interview as follows : — " It was short and uninter- 
rupted ; but the few broken intervals then enjoyed he 
embraced to impart his paternal counsel, as if conscious 
that his end was near. Unusual solemnity and fervor 
characterized his words of benediction, as they fell from 
his quivering lips on my taking leave of him." 

It was a custom with him and his colleagues to pass 
the Sabbath evening together in the exercises of religious 
devotion. On the Sabbath evening previous to the last 
which he spent on earth, he and one of his associates in 
the faculty, had been engaged in an animated inter- 
change of views and feelings with regard to the privi- 
leges and hopes of believers both living and dying, when 
it was proposed to close the interview with prayer. In 
this exercise, Dr. Richards enjoyed unwonted freedom 
and enlargement. The windows of heaven were opened, 
and the tongue of the suppliant was loosed. He seemed 



64 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

to recall everything which ought to be remembered in 
supplication with the greatest facility, and he poured out 
his soul before God like water. The Seminary — the 
Church of Christ — the salvation of souls — his own family, 
including a son absent on the ocean — the conversion of 
the world — were all remembered in the comprehensive- 
ness and the fervency of his supplication. " It seemed" 
said his colleague, " that it was the last prayer I should hear 
him utter:" and so it proved. Yet with all these indica- 
tions of being " quite on the verge of heaven/' there is 
reason to suppose that he did not himself apprehend that 
his end was so near. Though on the eve of spreading 
his pinions to fly away and be at rest with God, he knew 
it not. His infirmities had brought him to the determi- 
nation, however, to resign the chair of Christian Theo- 
logy in the Seminary, at the anniversary which was to 
take place about the middle of the ensuing month. In 
pursuance of this design, he penned a letter to his young- 
est son, intimating that important business would come 
before the Board of Commissioners, at their approaching 
session, and bespeaking his attendance as a member of 
the Board. This letter, written but eight days before 
his death, contained no mention of unusual indisposition, 
but, on the contrary, expressions of gratitude that he 
had endured the warm season thus far so well, and had 
been able to discharge, with so much uniformity, his offi- 
cial duties. But God's ways are not as man's. His ser- 
vant was to be released from his official duties, though 
not in the manner which he contemplated. He had al- 
ways regarded it as desirable to die, as he was accus- 
tomed to say, " with his armor on, and at the head of 
his troops." This honor God had determined to give 
him. From the date of his last letter to his son, to which 
allusion has been made, he complained more of debility. 
On Saturday he was attacked with a bowel complaint, 
which materially reduced his strength, and became an oc- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. £5 

casion of anxiety to his family. But, though feeble, he did 
not think it needful to keep his room. On the afternoon 
of that day, at the instance of some of the young men in 
the Seminary, who proposed to furnish him a convey- 
ance, he prepared himself to go out and meet the Hon. 
J. Q. Adams, who was to visit Auburn at that time. 
The effort to secure a conveyance having, however, 
failed, he quietly submitted to forego the pleasure of see- 
ing Mr. Adams, remarking, at the same time, that he 
had " used more exertion to behold the face of that hon- 
est republican than he would have made to look upon 
the face of a king." 

Near the close of the day, he visited a new dwelling 
which he had been erecting, and which had just been 
completed. He surveyed carefully every apartment from 
the garret to the cellar ; and when about to retire, he 
planted his foot impressively upon the floor, and said to 
the builder : This will do— this will do. He had erected 
this edifice, in anticipation of retiring soon from his office 
as Professor; and as a home for his family when he 
should be "gathered to his fathers." And that this 
house should be completed just in time to secure his 
survey and approbation, as the last business transaction 
of his life, and should offer a new home to his family, 
just at the time when the close of his official relations 
deprived them of another, will be noticed by devout 
minds as an arrangement of a kind Providence, worthy 
of admiration. He had been requested to conduct the 
religious exercises of the chapel in the Seminary, on the 
next day (Sabbath) and retired early, with a view to 
acquire, by rest, sufficient strength for the anticipated 
labor ; but when the Sabbath came, he was unable to 
leave his house. On the following morning, one of his 
classes came in a body to his house, with a view to reci- 
tation. He met them at the door and excused himself 
for the time, but intimated his hope that he should be 



(56 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

able to meet them on the morrow. But the venerable 
man had given his last lecture — had conducted his last 
recitation. As the day drew near to its close, and while 
he was engaged in conversation with one of his col- 
leagues, he was seized suddenly with a severe chill, his 
strength failed, and even a change passed over his coun- 
tenance, leaving an unwonted aspect, which continued 
to the last. From this time, his articulation became im- 
paired, and he took little notice of what was passing 
around him. His reason, however, did not leave him. 
On Tuesday evening it was intimated to Mrs. Richards 
by her daughter, that she had better retire for a season, 
and obtain a little rest. The proposal attracted his no- 
tice, and as if sensible that the hour of his release was 
near, and the watchings of his family almost at an end, 
he said with an audible voice : My dear, you must not 
leave me — you must not leave me. He said no more. 
Such of his wants as friends could supply he continued 
to indicate by appropriate signs ; and when his friends 
could do no more, he signified that his remaining 
wants were abundantly supplied from the "river that 
proceedeth from the throne of God, and the Lamb." He 
lingered until daybreak, when he ceased to breathe. 
Death was not only stingless, but it had no power to 
create a pang, or extort a groan. The soul left its tab- 
ernacle in a manner, as noiseless as the whisper which 
said, " Sister spirit, come away," or the motion of the 
angel's wing on which it was wafted to Heaven. 

" How blest the righteous when they die, 
When holy souls retire to rest ! 
How mildly beams the closing eye, 
How gently heaves the expiring breast. 



So fades a summer cloud away, 

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, 

So gently shuts the eye of day, 

So dies a wave along the shore." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 5"jf 

In view of the mournful event which had deprived 
them of a much-loved teacher and friend, the students 
of the Seminary, at a public meeting held on the 4th of 
August, passed, among others, the following resolu- 
tions : 

" Resolved, That while our grief at the death of our venerated 
Professor of Christian Theology is tempered by the recollection of 
his long and useful life, and the confident hope that he is present 
with Christ, we cannot but feel that, as members of this institution, 
we have suffered a loss of which it were useless to attempt an ade- 
quate expression. But we may be permitted, in common with all 
who knew him, to express our conviction that in his death the 
cause of sound Christian Theology has lost one of its ablest vindi- 
cators, and the practice of Christian virtue one of its brightest 
exemplars. 

u Resolved, That to the afflicted family and near friends of the 
deceased we tender our heartfelt commiseration, with the assurance 
that our sorrow, though it cannot be as great as theirs, is not the 
grief of strangers, but in kind like their own ; for we can truly say 
that he was a father to us all. 

u Resolved, That we attend his funeral as mourners, and wear 
the usual badge of mourning for thirty days." 

On the same day his funeral was attended by a large 
concourse of citizens and friends, in the Second Presby- 
terian Church, where an appropriate sermon was deliv- 
ered by Dr. Mills, the oldest surviving Professor in the 
Seminary, from Acts xiii. 36 : " After he had served his 
own generation by the will of God, [he] fell on sleep." 

The intelligence of the death of Dr. Richards created 
a strong and painful sensation. The friends of the Semi- 
nary not only, but the Christian public, felt that a great 
man had fallen in Israel. Both at Morristown and New- 
ark, where he had labored in the ministry, the pastors 
preached with reference to his death. 



gg BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

At a meeting of the Board of Commissioners, convened 
on the 16th of the same month, the following minute 
was adopted, and ordered to be published : 

" Whereas, it hath pleased Almighty God, in his sovereign and 
holy providence, to remove by death the Rev. James Richards, 
D.D., Professor of Christian Theology in this institution — 

" Resolved, That while in the removal, at this peculiar juncture, 
of so able, faithful and successful an instructor of the pupils of this 
Seminary in revealed truth, we feel and submit to the chastening 
hand of God, both upon ourselves and upon the institution, we do, at 
the same time, believe it to be our duty and privilege to remember 
with gratitude his great goodness in continuing the valuable ser- 
vices of the deceased for such a number of years, and to such an 
advanced period of life. 

u Resolved, That this Board do hereby tender to the bereaved 
widow and family of the deceased our affectionate sympathy, while 
we confidently commend them to the care and keeping of that 
God who has revealed himself as the widow's God and the father 
of the fatherless." 

On the same day the following, among other resolu- 
tions, were unanimously adopted, at a meeting of the 
Alumni of the Seminary : 

iC Resolved, That while we would not, if we could, call back 
our revered friend and instructor from his exalted and triumphant 
state, we nevertheless greatly mourn his loss, as one endeared to 
us by recollections of his kind and gentlemanly deportment towards 
us when his pupils, and the deep interest he ever manifested in 
our highest qualifications for the sacred office ; also by considera- 
tions of his high moral and intellectual worth, of his great ability 
and unwearied assiduity as a teacher of theology , and of the dignity, 
prudence and skill with which he presided over this institution, 
especially in seasons of adversity and trial. 

" Resolved, That, as an expression of our deep respect for the 
venerated dead, we take immediate measures to erect a suitable 
monument to his memory." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



69 



In pursuance of the last resolution, a beautiful monu- 
ment was erected within the space of a few months, of 
the sarcophagus form, and containing the following in- 
scription : 

jar m€m&nn 

OF 

THE REV. JAMES RICHARDS, D.D. 

BORN IN NEW CANAAN, CONN;, OCT. 29tH, 1767. 

ORDAINED AND INSTALLED PASTOR OF THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN 
CHURCH IN MORRISTOWN, N. J., 1794. 

INSTALLED PASTOR OF THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN NEW- 
ARK, N. J., 1809. 

INAUGURATED PROFESSOR OF CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY IN THE THEO- 
LOGICAL SEMINARY OF AUBURN, N. Y., 1823. 

DIED AUGUST 2, 1843. 



§15 Euorir U on §igl). 



The Alumni of the Seminary join with the Family of the 
Deceased in erecting this Monument to Departed Worth. 



CHAPTER VI 



NOTICES OF HIS CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE IN VARIOUS RELATIONS. 

The person of Dr. Richards was well suited to intro- 
duce him to the respect of others. His frame was tall and 
commanding. The features and expression of his coun- 
tenance, constituted no uncertain index either of his 
strength of intellect or kindness of heart. Many have 
remarked, that " Dr. Richards was one of nature's no- 
blemen." His manly form, his dignified movement, his 
intelligent and benignant countenance, and his gentle 
and affectionate address, could not fail to secure the ad- 
miration of those who are willing to " give honor to 
whom honor is due." " When he went out to the gate 
through the city, the young men hid themselves, and the 
aged arose and stood up. * * * When the ear heard 
him, then it blessed him, and when the eye saw him it 
gave witness to him." 

The social character of Dr. Richards was marked by 
much simplicity, frankness, patience, kindness and integ- 
rity. He was a friend in whom " the heart doth safely 
trust ;" a husband affectionate and devoted ; a father 
that " provoked not his children to wrath, but brought 
them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." 
In his business relations, he " owed no man anything ;" 
in his relations to the State, he claimed his rights as a 
citizen, and led " a peaceable life in all godliness and 
honesty ;" as a pastor and teacher, he was " kind, and 
easy to be entreated." 

The uprightness of Dr. Richards was well nigh pro- 
verbial. In matters of worldly business, he both avoided 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 7 J 

and despised a mean and dishonest transaction. Next 
to vital godliness, did the exhibition of practical honesty 
give him pleasure. I may here relate an incident, in 
connection with his history, the remembrance of which 
he cherished with much interest, as a happy illustration 
of sterling integrity. 

While at Newark, his brother, Silas Richards, then a 
successful merchant in Liverpool, England, proposed to 
furnish him a valuable accession to his library. To se- 
cure, however, a selection of books suited to the wants 
of a clergyman, he placed a sum of money at the dispo- 
sal of his pastor, Dr. Raffles, a name which has been long 
and favorably known in this country, and desired him to 
procure the books. In compliance with the request, Dr. 
Raffles procured and forwarded a large number of choice 
literary, as well as standard theological works, of his 
own country. After the lapse of nearly a quarter of a 
century, he found, accidentally, that a small balance was 
still standing to the credit of his friend. He immedi- 
ately put principal and interest together, and sent the 
value in books to Dr. Richards, thus accomplishing the 
liberal intention of the donor, and gratifying the object 
of the benefactions, both in their reception and in the 
beautiful exemplification of a rigid integrity on the part 
of his brother in the ministry. Upon a mind formed like 
that of the subject of this sketch, such incidents make 
impressions never to be forgotten. He lamented deeply 
the prevalence of principles in the commercial world, 
with which the honesty taught in the Bible has no sym- 
pathy ; and no man could forfeit his confidence sooner, 
than by even a slight deviation from the path of practi- 
cal uprightness. 

While a lover and an exemplar of justice, he also 
loved and practiced the virtues of benignity and kind- 
ness. In nothing was this manifest, more than in those 
relations in which he was regarded as the superior. If 



72 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

invested with the authority of the teacher, the dignity 
of his position became the occasion for condescension 
and kindness — never for coldness and reserve. He re- 
garded a high position chiefly for the opportunities it 
furnished for doing good. Says a former pupil, " He 
was the humble, tender-hearted, sympathizing friend, 
rather than the cold, assured, self-sufficient professor/' 
Says another : 

" There is one peculiarity in the character of Dr. Richards, 
which I think deserves special notice. I refer to his tender and 
affectionate sympathy for the young men placed under his instruc- 
tion. In all his intercourse with them, whether in the lecture-room, 
or elsewhere, while he ever maintained the dignity becoming his 
station, he at the same time made them feel at ease, and allowed 
them that unembarrassed freedom of discussion and inquiry, which 
greatly tended to elicit and impress truth, remove ignorance and 
prejudice, and render his instructions at once acceptable and profit- 
able. 

u And when the poor and friendless student needed counsel, 
he found easy and welcome access to the heart of his beloved 
teacher ; and when any of his pupils were afflicted with spiritual 
trials, and troubled with doubts and solicitudes, they had no diffi- 
culty in approaching Dr. Richards, and found him ever ready to 
sympathize with them, and prompt to minister such consolation 
and advice as the circumstances of the case seemed to require." 

Dr. Richards also loved to bend himself to all the fa- 
miliarities and charities of domestic life ; and while he 
maintained the dignity of the Christian, and the Chris- 
tian Minister, yet no man found higher enjoyment in the 
appropriate and affectionate reciprocities of the family 
relations. He was the companion, as well as the hus- 
band and the father, in the domestic circle. For nearly 
half a century he and his wife traveled life's journey 
together, in obedience to the vows, and in the enjoyment 
of the rich and appropriate blessings, of the marriage 
covenant, as well as " heirs together of the grace of 
life." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



73 



But we shall take occasion to dwell particularly upon 
the character of Dr. Richards in the parental relation. 
The writer is led to this the more, from the peculiar 
admiration created in his own mind of this character, as 
developed in his written correspondence with his children. 

It may be proper to furnish the reader with some ex- 
tracts from a few of the many letters which Dr. Rich- 
ards addressed to his children. It may also aid the 
reader if we announce the subject to which each extract 
particularly relates. 

TO HIS SECOND DAUGHTER. 

Theatre going. — " You correctly judged that I should be pleased 
to learn that one visit to the theatre was sufficient to satisfy you, 
and more than to satisfy. Whatever maybe said of that species of 
amusement, it is an undoubted truth, that it will always adapt 
itself to the corruptions of mankind, either more covertly or more 
openly, and ultimately tend to make a depraved world more de- 
praved." 

TO HIS ELDEST SON. 

Entering College. — u You have now left your father's house, 
perhaps never to return to it as a permanent residence. It is im- 
possible for me to express the solicitude which I feel for your wel- 
fare. * * Having mingled but little with men, you are not yet 
aware of the force of corrupt example, nor into how many snares 
you may be led by the strength of your own passions, and by the 
enticements of those who are willing to see others as abandoned 
as themselves. With all the tenderness of parental affection, let 
me entreat you to have but few acquaintances ; and let those few 
be select, such as you are assured will be of no disservice to you, 
either in the pursuit of your studies or in your moral deportment. 
Be attentive to the order and regulations of college. Never ab- 
sent yourself from recitations or prayers. Much will depend upon 
your beginning well, and forming habits at the outset which will 
be creditable to you among the students, and secure the confidence 
of the Faculty. And having made a good beginning, persevere. 
Your collegiate course will be likely to stamp your character 
through life. * * I would earnestly recommend it to you to 
husband your time. * * As to your moral deportment, let it 
5 



74 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



be scrupulously correct, and framed upon the principles of the 
Gospel. * * Two things I most earnestly request — that you 
will never play at cards, nor other games of chance ; they are a 
waste of time, and most miscliievous and dangerous things, and of 
all recreations most unsuitable for a student — and, that you do not 
frequent any of the public-houses or places of refreshment. * * 
Above all things, my dear son, fear God. * * To his merciful 
care I commend you, and earnestly beseech him to keep you from 
all evil." 

TO THE SAME. 

Choice of a Profession. — " I have never expressed any direct wish 
to you on this subject, though I conceive it to be a point of very 
great moment, and one which requires solemn and mature reflec- 
tion. Your present and eternal state may be very closely con- 
nected with your decision of it. If you had a renovated heart, and 
knew the grace of God in truth, nothing on earth could give me 
so much pleasure as to see you a minister of Christ. But let no 
man intrude himself into this sacred office without a gracious call. 

66 1 know that a man may be useful to the cause of religion, 
while pursuing any lawful calling. * * I know, too, that every 
profession has its cares and temptations, and the Gospel ministry 
among the rest ; but, as for myself, I had rather be a minister of 
the Lord Jesus, than to hold any other station that could be named. 
But while I say this, I know that every man has his predilections 
for employment, and that he ought to consult these among the 
various things which are concerned in making up his mind." 

TO A GRANDSON. 

Dissatisfaction with College. — " It appears to me that you must 
contemplate things through a false and deceptive medium, or they 
could never strike you as they seem to do. Undesirable objects 
exist everywhere, and things of unpleasant occurrence. This is 
the unavoidable condition of our fallen world. Go where you 
will, and you will meet them; do what you may, and they will 
pursue you, and nearly with equal success in every calling and in 
every place. * * What if the classes are twice as large in one 
institution as they are in another ; or the students make a hand- 
somer bow, or wear a finer coat, what has this to do with their men- 
tal improvement'? It is the books they study, and the thor- 
oughness with which they study them, together with clear and 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



75 



faithful instruction on the part of teachers, that does the business. 
All the rest is moonshine. It may contribute more or less to our 
pleasurable feelings, but will count little as to our substantial im- 
provement. * * Do you not err in supposing that the honor of 
graduating at one college, will differ materially from that of grad- 
uating at another 1 The question will seldom be asked, where did 
you graduate 1 But what are you 1 What your talents and at- 
tainments? "What your dispositions and moral habits'? After 
these your cotemporaries will look with eagle eye, and from every 
side, and, without your leave, will graduate you over again, and 
according to a scale of intellectual and moral excellence which 
they have formed for themselves." 

TO ANOTHER GRANDSON. 

The loss of a Father, — u To you, it appears to me, this bereave- 
ment holds a language of a special character. While it calls you, 
with the rest of the children, to lift up your eyes to your Father in 
heaven, and seek an interest in his protection and friendship, it 
admonishes you of the relation you sustain as the elder son in the 
family, and the part you are called to act towards your widowed 
mother, and your orphan brothers and sisters. It is a comfort to 
me to think that you will rightly estimate your position. * * 
Love your mother — love her much ; she deserves your love. Re- 
lieve her as much as possible from the burden of accumulating 
cares ; anticipate her every want, and leave nothing undone which 
may tend to soften the pangs of a bereaved and aching heart. * * 
I think, my dear child, I may trust you for this and for the dis- 
charge of those duties which you owe to your afflicted brothers 
and sisters." 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SON. 

Integrity and Honesty. — " When business is confided to you, at- 
tend to it with the most sacred fidelity. Let there be no shuffling, 
no equivocation, no want of punctuality. Especially in all money 
matters, be exact to a farthing. One deceitful transaction will do 
the business for you. Whatever may be the temptation, resolve 
never to depart from the high road of truth, justice and honor." 

TO THE SAME. 

Keeping out of Debt. — To you my advice is, and always will be, 
keep out of debt if possible. This is the only way to maintain 



76 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

one's independence, and to be in easy circumstances. The bor- 
rower is the servant of tae lender, and the debtor of the creditor, 
the world over. 

" No man can breathe fresly, w T ho owes more than he can pay 
when it is justly demanded. I have enjoyed life a^ much as most 
men, but I have never allowed myself to get into debt beyond the 
power of an early and easy liquidation. I am aware that men of 
business cannot always act > upon this principle, but every young 1 
man should make it a point to keep within his means, and thou- 
sands in society would save themselves from the keenest torture, 
not to say reproach, if they would hearken to the dictates of pru- 
dence on this subject." 

TO HIS SECOND SON. 

Merchandizing. — " Suppose you were thoroughly acquainted 
with the value of goods, and that you knew what was best adapted 
to any particular market, and that you could buy and sell with as 
much skill as others : this is far from being the whole matter. There 
are many surprising turns and changes in mercantile affairs, to be 
looked out for and provided against. There needs to be a watch- 
ful and experienced eye, to guard against losses from various quar- 
ters, and to meet the pressure of engagements. I have not a 
particle of doubt, as to w T hat is the wisest course for you. If pos- 
sible, you ought to obtain a clerkship for another year. * * * You 
think you have seen many things, and have had opportunity to 
make many observations, and do not know but you take as en- 
lightened a view of the transactions of business, and the affairs of 
life generally, as you will do some five or ten years hence. When 
your friends see that you have vim to take care of yourself, they 
will help you. * * * But what harm in making the trial ? Sure 
enough, what harm in throwing away fifteen hundred or two thou- 
sand dollars of other people's money, and becoming a bankrupt in 
early life ? * * * I speak freely and plainly, but with a father's 
heart. You cannot know the deep interest I take in your welfare, 
both temporal and eternal." 

TO THE SAME. 

Fidelity and regard to Providence in business. — " I rejoice that 
there is a prospect of your succeeding in business. But recollect, 
my son, " that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the 
strong, nor yet honor to men of skill." There is a Providence 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



77 



which presides over the affairs of men, and without its favorable 
concurrence, all their efforts will be in vain. Yet God overrules 
the world by general laws, and his blessing is more likely to fall 
upon those who are diligent in the use of appropriate means. If 
w x e squander time, if we are extravagant in our expenditures, or 
careless and reckless in our course, w T e diminish the chances of our 
success. If, from a haste to become rich, we depart from the path 
of rectitude and honor, or do more business than we can do safely, 
by trusting those who cannot make prompt returns, w T e shall not 
only multiply our cares and anxieties, but greatly increase the 
probability of our ultimate failure. I am desirous that you should 
do well, and as one means of this, let me earnestly recommend it 
to you to act upon the nicest principles of honor and justice." 

TO THE SAME. 

Course to be pursued in days of pecuniary embarrassment. — 
ei There is not as much pressure yet in the country as in the city, 
though I think it begins to be felt here. * * I hope, my son, that you 
will feel the importance of acting, in these times, correctly and 
honorably, whatever events may befall. Keep in view your ac- 
countability to God, and never lose sight of the maxim established 
by the observation of ages, that " honesty is the best policy." If a 
man fails honestly, and through sheer misfortune, everybody will 
sympathize with him. His creditors, if they find him correct and 
honorable, will treat him with more kindness, and be ready to assist 
him to get into business again. But if they find him not trust- 
worthy, they will reproach him, and abandon him to his fate." 

The writer may be allowed to remark, that he has 
enjoyed much intercourse with the son, Mr. Edward C. 
Richards, to whom the foregoing were addressed, and 
who is now engaged in a successful mercantile course in 
the city of New York. He has, at several distinct times, 
intimated to me, that though in his youth he could not 
appreciate the counsels of his father, in relation to busi- 
ness, yet experience had taught him their justice and 
value, and that his own success, since leaving the pater- 
nal roof, had depended on the observance of principles 
which his father had suggested. 



78 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

TO THE SAME. 

Tour to England, — u We cannot but regret that you have thought 
it necessary, in the prosecution of your business, to go to England, 
Yet, if it is the call of duty, we must submit to it, and commend 
you to that Providence which rules on the mighty ocean no less 
than on the land. * * * I think of the dangers of the sea which 
you are about to encounter ; but there are other dangers which 
will attend you in going abroad to a foreign land — dangers which 
arise from the society you will meet, and from the opinions and 
practices of those who are at war with the truth, and enemies to 
religion and virtue. 

" Were you a true Christian, and safely sheltered in the ark 
which the Gospel has provided for a lost world, I could, with more 
composure, see you take your leave of your native shores, to await 
the events which may befall. As it is, I can assure you of a father's 
and a mother's love, and a daily remembrance in our prayers." 

TO THE SAME. 

Reading, — Do you get any time to read ? I do not ask whether 
you acquaint yourself with the news of the day. This, almost any 
young man, without any great effort at husbanding his time, will 
be enabled to do. But do you find leisure for more solid reading, 
and for that permanent improvement which you ought to seek, as 
an intellectual being, and a member of an enlightened community 1 
Above all, do you read your Bible, the best of all books. * * 
For instruction in morals, and for wisdom to direct in the general 
conduct of life, there is no book like the Bible." 

TO THE SAME. 

Reverencing the Sanctuary. — " Have you made your church 
location yet ? and where is it ? I want to see you settled in your 
habits in regard to this point. It involves perhaps more than you 
are aware of, both as to this life and that which is to come. A 
man's moral estimate in society is affected by his church-going 
habits, and no less certainly his views and impressions of the doc- 
trines and duties of religion. I am no bigot, yet I should be grati- 
fied by your taking a seat in some Presbyterian church, provided 
your wife should be willing to accompany you. Should you pre- 
fer the Dutch church I should make no objections. * * There 
are other evangelical churches where the truth is substantially 
preached. Lose no time, my dear son, in locating yourself some- 
where, and when located, let not your place be empty." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 70, 

In the intercourse which Dr. Richards maintained with 
his children, his chief anxieties manifestly related to 
their spiritual and eternal interests. His correspond- 
ence, though involving wholesome counsel in all matters 
pertaining to this world, is stamped pre-eminently with 
the impress of religion. Among two hundred letters 
and extracts of letters submitted to the compiler, which 
were written to his children previous to their hopeful 
conversion, rarely is one to be found, where vital piety, 
in some form, is not distinctly recognized as a duty, 
while in most instances it is affectionately and solemnly 
urged upon their immediate attention. 

The following extracts from so many letters, and which 
we give in the form of paragraphs, will give the reader a 
just view of this feature in his correspondence : 

" What will you do, when you come to take your last look of 
the world, if you find no God and Saviour near 1 Our greatest 
wisdom is to make sure of an interest in Christ, and put ourselves 
over entirely into his hands. My prayer is, my r dear child, that 
this may be your great and chief concern." 

" Not a day passes without our thinking much of you, nor do 
we meet around the family altar without bringing your case 
before the throne of eternal mercy. We wish you every comfort 
in this world, and above all, we are solicitous that you should 
choose that good part which shall not be taken from you." 

" I long to see you safely housed in the ark, before the gather- 
ing tempest shall arise and sweep away all that are without." 

" Beg of the Lord to undertake for you, and work in you 
mightily, to will and to do of his good pleasure." 

" You know not the anxiety I have on the subject of your sal- 
vation." 

u Oh ! could you but see what I see, and realize but a little 
what is so apparent and whelming to my own mind, you would 
begin in earnest to sue for mercy, and never rest till your peace 
was made with God." 



gO BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

w Does this amazing subject take hold of you? Does it stir the 
inner man? Does it induce the solemn purpose to make sure of 
the good part ; the one thing needful?" 

Similar appeals characterize his entire correspondence, 
except that the anxiety of the father's heart, and the 
importunity of his pen, seemed to augment as the day 
of probation advanced. 

The following passages and extracts contemplate his 
children in different positions. 

TO HIS ELDEST SON. 

Under Conviction. — u In God alone your help is found. He is 
under no obligation to show you mercy, nor can you bring him 
under any by all your heartless, impenitent and unbelieving 
prayers ; and yet if you were to say, Then I will restrain prayer, 
and leave the business unsolicited in his hand, I should consider 
you as lost. You might long since have gone down to death, and 
made your bed in hell, but for infinite, unmerited mercy. Let 
that mercy melt you. * * * Depend upon it, the Lord is 
striving with you, which ought to be a matter of thankfulness on 
the one hand, and of fear and trembling on the other. * # * 
You may be assured of a constant remembrance in my prayers. 
But do not trust in what your father or any other mortal or mortals 
can do for you. You must go to Christ, and submit yourself and 
your cause to him." 

TO THE SAME. 

Hopeful Conversion. — u Had God conferred on you the wealth 
of the Indies, it had been nothing compared with the rich display 
of his grace in calling you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 
How shall I be thankful enough for this amazing instance of 
Divine mercy ! It is indeed sovereign, boundless and free, and 
indicates by its boundlessness the ocean from which it flows. Let 
us give thanks to his eternal name, and let our lives, distinguished 
by such mercy, be consecrated entirely and forever to him. * * 

u It is well that you should be on your guard. Deception in 
such a case would be awful beyond expression. To avoid it, we 
should examine after the grounds of our hope, and examine deep. 
We should look to the secret springs of action, and see what it is 
which moves us. Whether love to God on account of his holy 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



81 



nature, as well as for his kindness to us, really inspires and influ- 
ences our hearts. I should advise you to read Dr. Witherspoon, 
i On the Fruits and Effects of Regeneration,' which you will find 
in the first volume of his works. If you can obtain the volume, 
read attentively and prayerfully, willing to know the worst as well 
as the best of your case. How I long to see you, and to have an 
opportunity of praying and blessing God together !" 

TO HIS SECOND DAUGHTER. 

Undue anxiety in adversity. — " Great as your calamities are, they 
might be still greater. You might see yourself and your dear 
family devoted to immediate destruction in a bun ing ship, or 
buried in the ruins of a falling house smitten by a tornado. * * 
Be assured God's hand is in these events, which are apparently so 
disastrous to you. They make a part of that wise and holy plan, 
according to which from eternity he determined to govern the 
world ; and besides, you have the promise that they shall issue in 
your good, if you do but patiently submit to them." 

TO THE SAME. 

" You speak of your distress at the prospect of being in a state 
of dependence. I fear you do not feel quite right upon this sub- 
ject. We ought not without great necessity to throw ourselves 
upon the kindness and sympathies of others ; but when we can 
no longer help ourselves, it is a favor that others will help us, and 
we should thank the Lord that he provides such assistance, though 
it may not always be in a way the most congenial to our feelings. 
Elijah was fed by the ravens for a time, but how clean their talons 
or delicate their bills I know not ; and when he was sent to the 
house of a widow who was in possession of a barrel of meal and a 
cruse of oil, we are not informed as to the style of the cookery, or 
the manner in which his daily meals were served up. It was enough 
that in God's way his wants were supplied." 

TO THE SAME. 

JVervous Excitability — Beating of the Heart. — " I am strong- 
ly inclined to think that if you would ride out, in pleasant 
weather, especially when the wind is at the west, and also take 
exercise about your domestic mailers, you would speedily find 
amendment in the tone of your system. * * You have great 
beating of the heart, I am told, and that this alarms you. So have 



g2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

I had through the early part of the winter, though pretty much 
gone now; and the more I attended to it, the more it beat; but by 
pursuing the course 1 recommend to you, my heart now carries on 
its functions very quietly. Nor do I very often inquire how fast it 
goes ; but when I do, I find it at quite a moderate pace, not more 
than thirty or thirty-five strokes in a minute — and since no volition 
of mine can alter its course, I let it alone, being thankful that it 
will go at all." 

TO HIS YOUNGEST SON. 

The Work of the Ministry. — " My prayers have been answered, 
my dear son, in seeing you a minister of the Lord Jesus, and re- 
gularly settled in a pastoral charge. You have taken what seemed 
clearly the path of duty, and there must be no looking back. Go 
on, my dear son, in the great work to which, I trust, the Lord has 
called you. Be a man of study, and a man of prayer, and you 
cannot fail to be useful. 

u I want you to be a much better and holier man than I 

have been, and to accomplish more in the cause of the Redeemer. 
Your lot is cast in an interesting period of the world, when much 
is doing for the honor of Christ, and the good of men ; and you 
live in a part of the world where an opportunity is afforded of lay- 
ing out yourself to promote the cause of truth and righteousness. 
* * Strive to live near to God, and make it a business to please 
and honor him. It is the spirit of the ministry, rather than its ac- 
quisitions and talents, that we should look at. Both are important ; 
but the first pre-eminently so. Here lies the grand failure of the 
ministry of the present day." 

TO THE SAME. 

Preparation of Sermons. — w Lose no time in your preparations 
for the pulpit. Take some digested plan for a sermon, and begin 
in season, and go ahead. Labor not so much to polish, as to say 
the right things in the right place, and with the utmost perspicuity 
and force." 

TO THE SAME. 

Public Religious Exercises. — Let me repeat my injunction, be 
short in your public exercises. Do not pray about everything at 
once. When you make long prayers, let it be in your closet ; but 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. g3 

at all times remember that we are not heard for our much speaking. 
In preaching long, especially as you write the most of your ser- 
mons, too much time and strength are necessarily expended in the 
preparation, and the delivery also is exhausting. If you cannot 
express yourself in short-metre, make long-metre of it, and cut the 
sermon in two. 55 

TO THE SAME. 

Trials of the Ministry. — u Every Christian minister must have 
his trials, and God knows best what form they shall assume. Be 
on your guard lest your feelings should become chafed, and Satan 
get an advantage against you. Anything which should alienate your 
heart from the people of your charge, would endanger both your com- 
fort and your usefulness. If they were as liberal and as good as they 
ought to be, they would have less need of your services. Manage 

the matter about with kindness and prudence, and it will turn 

out well, I have no doubt. What is most important to you, and 
almost the only thing which is important, is to give yourself to your 
work. * * Look to God alone for all needed grace, to make 
you faithful, and to crown your labors with success. 55 

But there may be those with whom what has been 
said of the social excellences of Dr. Richards will all go 
for nought. They have seen, or suppose they have 
seen, a blot upon his social character, which is more than 
an offset to all his virtues. It is reported that he was 
a slaveholder. Not a little has been said in relation to 
this matter, and much sensation has been produced in 
private circles, and also in places of public concourse. 
Of this matter we have Dr. Richard's own explanation, 
and, though dead, he may speak for himself. In a letter 
to Rev. Charles Merwin, an alumnus of Auburn Theo- 
logical Seminary, under date of Feb. 6, 1841, he says : 

" There is a colored woman, in Newark, N. J., who, according 
to the laws of that State, stands in the relation of a slave to me, 
but who, in fact, lias been as free, for nearly twenty years, as she 
desired to be, or as I could make her. When I removed into this 
State, I gave her her choice, to accompany me to Auburn, or to 
stay among her friends, without any master or superior, to work 



g4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

when she pleased, and play when she pleased, without any will 
but her own to control her. She preferred the latter, though she' 
has since expressed her regret that she did not remain in my family. 
She was too old to be manumitted according to law, without bonds 
being given that she should not become a town charge; and when the 
subject of manumission was proposed to her, she utterly declined it, 
saying that she knew her interest too well to be made legally free at 
her time of life. Doubtles si e judged wisely; for while she was 
able to work and support herself, she was perfectly at her own dis- 
posal, and had the benefit of her labor ; and when she became too 
infirm to do this, she had a resort to her master's funds, which she 
has found adequate to all her necessities. She lives among her 
relations, who provide every comfort for her, at my order, and at 
my expense. 

" As a friend of the colored race, what could I do more? If I 
had manumitted her, with or against her will, she must have gone 
to the poor-house in her old age, instead of living among her 
friends, in the most absolute ease and independence, with every 
want cheerfully met and supplied. 

" But how came this woman into my possession, and to stand 
in the relation of a servant to me 1 It took place in conse- 
quence of her earnest request, and to promote what I then believed 
was he interest and my own. She was then too old to be manu- 
mitted — a thing she did not desire — but wished to change masters 
for many reasons, and among others to be nearer to her husband and 
children. Such a change would not increase the number of slaves, 
while it would obviously ameliorate their condition ; nor could it, 
as I supposed, have any influence in perpetuating a state of bond- 
age. A gradual emancipation had already been determined on, 
and provision made by the laws of the State for the freedom of 
every person to whom freedom would be a privilege. The object 
then sought has since been very nearly consummated. The colored 
people of that State, with the exception of a few aged persons, are 
now all free, and their freedom has been accomplished with less 
suffering to themselves, and with more positive benefit, than if it 
had been effected in a single day." 

In speaking of the mind of Dr. Richards, the first thing 
to be noticed is its energy. From his childhood he was 
manifestly the subject of high purpose, or determination 
to make something of himself. His manly bearing in 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. g- 

early youth, his early and successful efforts in teaching 
others, his youthful address to his parents — " it is time 
for me to turn my attention to some calling for life" — 
all indicate energy of character. And when he had 
entered upon a course of study with a view to the Gospel 
ministry, though often hindered, yet he never faltered in 
his purpose. Like the majestic river, which either re- 
moves obstacles or rises above them, or provides for 
itself new channels, he fixed his eye upon the goal, and 
pursued his cherished aim. When disappointed, yet not 
discouraged — when blind, availing himself of the aid 
of a sister — when his wants could not be consistently 
supplied by his friends, resorting to teaching to aid him- 
self — when interrupted in his course of study at college, 
returning to avail himself of private instructions — when 
visited with long, wasting sickness, yet devoting his 
restored health to study — often "faint, yet pursuing," 
until the desired object is reached. To this energy of 
mind, this fixedness of purpose, this indomitable zeal in 
carrying an object, or, in other words, to this determina- 
tion to be something, more than to any other one cause, 
we ascribe, under God, the eminence which he reached. 
He stands forth before the world a self-educated man — 
as one of the few who have attained not only professional 
excellence, but high attainment in general knowledge, 
in spite of the most serious interruptions and embarass- 
ments connected with an early course of study. 

In the mind of Dr. Richards the reasoning faculty was 
also well developed. He had imagination, and might have 
soared and dwelt among the " heights," but his taste did 
not lead him to try his pinions. Besides, his duties, espe- 
cially for the last part of his life, were more concerned 
with the " depths." His intellectual pursuits looked to 
the development and elucidation of substantial truth, and 
few uninspired men have been more successful in finding 
this pearl of great price. "A wise man," says Solomon, 



gg BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

" will hear and will increase learning, and a man of un- 
derstanding shall attain unto wise counsels/' The mind 
that seeks truth supremely, which pursues it deliberately 
and patiently, which comprehends its relations and de- 
pendences, and which weighs objections against it in 
" even balances," gives the fairest promise of success 
in its pursuit. Such, we think, was the mind of Dr. 
Richards. Its entire construction was such as to render 
him a close and successful reasoner. The candor, pa- 
tience, deliberation and common sense which came in to 
aid the perceptive and reasoning faculties, secured to 
them a clearness of comprehension, and a strength and 
majesty of movement, and a correctness of conclusion 
which will place his name among the greatest lights of 
his age. Even those who may call in question his phi- 
losophical principles and deductions, or his expositions 
of the Scriptures, will not withhold the acknowledgment 
that his defence of his own positions is the defence of 
masterly power. It may also be noticed that while Dr. 
Richards was no inventor of new and fanciful theories, 
and while he took no pleasure in differing with good 
men in opinion, yet his mind pursued its investigations 
with remarkable independence. He received nothing on 
the simple assertion of any man. He examined every- 
thing for himself. He often inclined to a system as a 
whole, without endorsing every thing which might be re- 
garded as belonging to it, thus receiving what, to his 
mind, seemed according to truth, and rejecting the rest, 
whoever might be the author. Thus he was a Calvinist 
of the Edwardean School. He was accustomed to say 
that " he did not like to differ from Edwards." Yet he 
was no slave to the opinions of Edwards, and endorsed 
not a sentiment of that great man, unless, upon exami- 
nation, he was led to regard it as in accordance with 
eteraal truth. So he was, on the whole, a New School 
man, but he was far from defending everything which 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



87 



might go under the New School name. It will be found 
that his views on several important topics differ from the 
extremes of the Old School and New. 

But the mind of Dr. Richards was distinguished for 
nothing more than for its strong common sense. To appre- 
ciate this, you are to look at the age in which he lived. 
He was young when the Church began to awake to the 
wants of a dying world ; and his early ministry was 
connected with the birth of many of the philanthropic 
and benevolent institutions of the land. His life as a 
professor, too ,was passed in the midst of much agitation 
and excitement. At such times, men are apt to betake 
themselves to extremes. They are Old School or New 
School, without reserve. They either go with the cur- 
rent, or stand still and hold back. They either make 
doctrine everything, or practice everything. They make 
the missionary cause a hobby; or temperance, or the 
cause of the slave, and regard with comparative indiffer- 
ence, other forms of benevolence and philanthropy. 
Now, what is wanting, is, that good men, and especially 
leaders in the " sacramental host/' should keep their 
balance ; that they shall go neither too fast nor too slow ; 
that they shall give everything not only a place, but its 
proper place. In a word, that they shall be " ready for 
every good word and work." Such a " balance of mind " 
is not only the " better part of valor," but in the Chris- 
tian pastor, or theological professor, a requisite, second 
only to humble piety. Of a mind thus balanced, it is 
believed, that the last half or three-fourths of a century 
has not presented a happier example thau was found in 
Dr. Richards. He discovered the relations of things 
almost by intuition, and predicted tendencies and results 
with the accuracy of a prophet. When he sought an 
end, he selected means which would secure it, without 
" subjecting his good to be evil spoken of." When 
conducting Zion through the interesting scenes of a re- 



gg BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

vival, no drawbacks upon the good accomplished resulted 
from a " zeal not according to knowledge." 

This feature in his intellectual character, contributed 
to the wisdom and weight of his counsels, in the different 
relations and emergencies of life. As a father, as a 
pastor, and as a guide and teacher of youth, he rarely 
gave a word of advice, which did not, sooner or later, 
prove itself " a word fitly spoken." In the highest judi- 
catories of the church, when matters of great interest 
were involved in perplexity, and when " much speak- 
ing " seemed to " darken counsel," or furnish no light, a 
few words from the modest lips of Dr. Richards, have 
proved like the breaking forth of the setting sun-beams, 
after a day of clouds and storms. 

This feature of his mind also proved an effectual pre- 
ventive of imposition and circumvention. He read the 
intentions of men from their conduct, with great accu- 
racy. Though he was unsuspicious, yet no man within 
the range of his observation could pursue a zig-zag 
course, and escape the notice of his eye. And the man 
who undertook by stratagem, to circumvent him, or 
injure his reputation and influence, either abandoned the 
enterprise in discouragement, or closed it in disgraceful 
defeat. Efforts of this kind were made at different peri- 
ods of his public life, and in some instances, enlisting 
much talent and influence ; and, were it wise to expose 
the snares which were laid for his feet, and the manner 
in which they were escaped, elucidation would be fur- 
nished of a sagacity with which it is not safe to contend. 
" To steady opposition," says his colleague Dr. Mills, 
" he was the most impracticable man I ever knew. At 
the outset, his opponents might honestly think themselves 
right, but they soon would find themselves in the wrong 
by the est imation of others, and what is apt to be more pro- 
voking, by their own. They might please themselves with 
calling him the " old fox ;" but they never caught him. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



89 



As a Christian, Dr. Richards was humble, prayerful, 
and full of sympathy with the cause of Christ. Like 
Brainerd and Edwards, he cherished the most abasing 
views of his own moral character. He was once asked, 
" Do you suppose that you have ever, for a moment, 
loved God as much as you ought ?" and his immediate 
answer was, " No, not a thousandth part :" and burst 
into tears. In his religious character, which, on the 
whole, was one of great symmetry, there was, perhaps, 
more of the anxious than the hopeful and joyous. Says 
Dr. Cox, one of his colleagues in Auburn : 

" He sometimes evinced anxiety of a peculiar kind. It was not 
that his hope was shaken or gloomed either objectively or subject- 
ively ; but it arose from a tender apprehension of the great crisis 
of the dying hour, of the importance of glorifying Christ in his exit 
from the world, the desirableness of recommending his religion to 
survivors, his conscious need of special grace in that great solemnity 
of untried being! He would say to me. Oh ! that I may have the 
full and copious help of the Holy Ghost when I come to die — a 
supply of the spirit of Christ !" 

Dr. Richards loved and cherished the spirit of prayer. 
He regarded it as the " Christian's vital breath." His 
attitude in his private devotions, especially during the 
latter part of his life, was standing ; and often, with his 
hands placed upon the mantle-piece of his study, he was 
found wrestling with the angel of the covenant. An in- 
mate of his family relates an instance in which his 
countenance so indicated an abstraction of mind from 
earth and his sweet communion with God, as to remind 
her of Moses on the holy mount " in audience with the 
Deity." 

He laid great stress upon prayer as giving life and 
efficacy to all other means of grace. In times of trial 
and darkness in the Church he went often to his closet, 
and recommended to others earnest and importunate 
appeal to the mercy-seat, as furnishing the richest pro- 
6 



gQ BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

mise of needed relief. Says one, " Division and strife in 
the Church were to him as 'a thorn in the flesh;' and 
while others litigated and thundered anathemas, this 
man of God was on his knees, weeping over the afflic- 
tions of Joseph, and praying for the peace of Zion." 

The depth and power of his pious sympathies, were 
peculiarly developed in connection with revivals of re- 
ligion and the benevolent movements of the age. 

" My acquaintance with him," says the Rev. G. N. Judd, " com- 
menced in the winter of 1817. It was a time of general religious 
interest in the town of Newark, especially among the people of his 
pastoral charge. I shall never forget the intense interest and hea- 
venly unction which characterized his conversation, his preaching 
and his prayers. * * 

" It was evident that he felt a deep interest in the salvation of 
men everywhere. No one could doubt this who enjoyed the privi- 
lege of listening to his prayers. They were characterized by a 
tenderness of spirit, a depth of feeling, a divine emotion, and a 
power of entreaty, decidedly evidential of intense desire and strong 
faith in God, as the hearer of prayer." 

The writer of the above refers to a meeting of Presby- 
tery in Morristown, at the time of a powerful revival of 
religion, and speaks of Dr. Richards, who was present, 
as follows : 

" The deep fountains of feeling in his bosom were evidently 
moved. He offered the prayer which preceded the delivery 
of the Presbyterial sermon, and made an address at a meet- 
ing in the evening which was appropriated to exhortation and 
prayer. Both of these performances were characterized by a sense 
of the presence, majesty, and holiness of God, and the worth of 
the soul, such as I have seldom, if ever, witnessed." 

A co-presbyter of the writer, Rev. C. Merwin, says : 

"Soon after leaving the Seminary, I went to him for advice, 
during an awakening among the people of my charge. I told him 
of the solemn interest which pervaded my congregation, and of the 
tokens of God's presence. The tears stole rapidly down his 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



91 



FURROWED CHEEKS, AS HIS SOUL SEEMED TO EXULT IN THE PROS- 
PERITY of God's cause." 

It may be added that Dr. Richards " devised liberal 
things" for the kingdom of Christ. His agency was 
concerned not only in the origin of many of the benevo- 
lent institutions of the age, but in sustaining them to the 
last, by his charities, and prayers, and labors. Nothing 
more gladdened his heart as a pastor, than the increase 
of that spirit among his people which looks to the con- 
version of the world ; and as a Professor, nothing is noted 
in his correspondence with the friends of the Seminary 
with greater joy than the spirit evinced among his pupils 
to go to " the waste places " of our American Zion, or 
carry the Gospel upon their lips to " the isles of the sea," 
and to preach " Christ where he had not been named." 

As a theologian Dr. Richards held a high place in the 
estimation of the Christian public. His profession not 
only, but taste and habits of instructing young men in 
their course preparatory to the ministry, led his mind 
much in the direction of theological study. The general 
character of his religious opinions is well intimated in 
the language of Dr. Woods, of Andover : " He thought, 
and felt, and preached, as the ministers of Connecticut 
did 40 years ago, and as the ministers of New England 
generally do now. His religious experience substan- 
tially agreed with the experience of such men as Ed- 
wards, Brainerd and Bellamy; and his theological belief 
corresponded with his experience. And when I say this, 
I mean to say that his belief and his religious experience 
were conformed to the Word of God." His views were 
clear and comprehensive. He saw the relations and 
mutual dependences of the Gospel system ; and with 
much care and skill assigned to each particular truth its 
own proper place. Primary truths were well distin- 
guished, both in relation to each other, and in relation 
to those which are only secondary; and his body of 



92 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



divinity, like the natural body, was " fitly joined toge- 
ther and compacted by that which every joint sup- 
plied." 

As a polemic, Dr. Richards was skillful, and no less 
candid than skillful. He read or heard opposing views 
patiently, stated them fairly, and then discussed them in 
such a manner as to secure the respect of his opponent, 
if not to convince him of error. " It was remarkable," 
says one, " that his opposition to error and disorder was 
made with a spirit so respectful, and kind and gentle, 
that he did not lose the esteem and friendship of those 
from whom he differed." 

There are some things which have a degree of import- 
ance in the preacher, in which the subject of this sketch 
was excelled. He never prepared his sermons with any 
reference to the " enticing words of man's wisdom." 
For polishing, he found neither time nor disposition. 
Nor was he equal to some of his brethren in gracefulness 
of manner. It was evident that in relation to these 
matters, either he had never made himself familiar with 
highly-finished models, or if so, that he was not particu- 
larly careful to copy them. But in strong thought clothed 
with appropriate diction, in giving to the trumpet a cer- 
tain sound, in bringing from the Gospel treasure things 
both new and old, in presenting truth with perspicuity, 
in giving to each hearer his own portion in due season, 
and in applying truth pungently and faithfully, Dr. Rich- 
ards had few equals in the American Church. He select- 
ed his themes, arranged his plans, chose his forms ol 
expression, and delivered his message with the obvious 
aim to make his hearers understand, and induce them to 
receive and obey the truth. Hence there was no mere 
show of learning in the pulpit, but everything was suited 
as well to instruct the unlettered, as to interest and edify 
the most highly-furnished minds. He never discussed a 
doctrine dryly; but after a fair statement, and clear 
elucidation, brought it to bear upon the hearer, as a 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



93 



matter of deep practical interest, and as furnishing the 
highest motives for holy confidence and obedience. His 
presentation of the preceptive and experimental parts of 
the Gospel, constituted a bright and faithful mirror, in 
which his hearers could learn what was their own spirit- 
ual character. There was also much less inequality in 
his ordinary exhibitions of truth, than often obtains among 
those who are regarded as eminent preachers. There 
are those in the Christian ministry who are capable of 
great efforts, who, nevertheless, sometimes feed their 
flocks with mere declamation, or at best, with tame and 
moderate sermons. Dr. Richards was more equal in the 
distribution of his power ; or, at least, he avoided the 
sinking extreme, which certainly is the least desirable. 
" As a preacher," says the Hon. T. Frelinghuysen, " he 
was sound, practical, instructive, always interesting, and 
often eloquent. The great themes which he discussed, 
and the deep concern he felt for the salvation of his 
hearers, were so earnestly and solemnly urged, that no 
one could mistake his convictions or his purpose." 

As a Professor of Theology, Dr. Richards was well 
furnished, apt to teach, punctual and patient. His 
studies, as we have already remarked, were mainly 
subordinate to the range of instruction which he was 
called to impart. This principle was closely adhered to 
until the close of his life. any of his lectures were 
frequently re- written. Every sentiment was carefully 
and frequently examined, and the phraseology and form 
in which that sentiment was conveyed, was studied with 
a view to its conveying precisely the author's sentiments 
to the minds of his pupils. About two years before his 
death, in a letter to his daughter he says : 

" Could I favor myself as much as I really ought at my time of 
life, I think I should enjoy comfortable health. But it is difficult 

to do this. If I have classes I must hear them ; if I hear them / 
must be prepared." 

" As an instructor he was remarkably punctual. Hours 



94 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



devoted to recitation he regarded as sacredly due to 
his pupils, and he never withheld or curtailed them for 
trifling reasons. The following incident illustrates his 
fidelity at this point. He was in his study, in the midst 
of a lively conversation with a brother in the ministry, 
when the Seminary bell rang for recitation. His friend 
expressed his regret at the interruption, and seemed in- 
clined to protract the interview with the Professor. But 
it was a question to be " taken without debate." He 
immediately rose from his seat, excused himself, took 
his hat and papers, and retired. 

His manner of demolishing the false positions and rea- 
sonings of his pupils, was marked by great gentleness 
and kindness. He never aimed to "break down" a 
student, however tenacious in sustaining a wrong posi- 
tion, but to undermine him and let him fall of himself; 
and, for the most part, the fall was so gentle that the 
shame of being vanquished on the part of the pupil 
was lost in his admiration of the skill of his teacher. 
Rev. N. W. Fisher, a classmate of the writer, says : 

" I never shall forget a circumstance that occurred soon after I 
joined our class. The question to be answered was, Whether con- 
science always dictated right? I took the position that it did, and 
maintained it with a force of argument probably unusual for a tyro. 
This brought me in collision with the Doctor, who took opposite 
ground. For want of time the debate ended before it was finished. 
About nine o'clock in the evening following a rap was heard at my 
door, when who should appear but the Doctor. Not satisfied with 
the manner in which the debate had ended in the recitation-room, 
he sought this opportunity to resume the subject. The discussion 
continued till near midnight. I listened with profound admiration 
to his arguments, and was pleased with the evidence he gave of his 
anxiety, not so much to triumph, as to arrive at the truth and con- 
vince me of my error. He foresaw, probably, that it would influ- 
ence other points in theology, and he seemed intensely anxious that 
I should be set right. I must confess that my position had to give 
way, and my views have been different ever since." 

With the substantial qualities of a teacher he also 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 



95 



commanded, at will, those which are sprightly and hu- 
morous. Few men could invent a pithy form of thought, 
or draw a happy comparison, or recall an apposite anec- 
dote with greater facility. In the use of such illus- 
trations he judged well as to time and place. If he 
seemed to descend, it was not at the expense of his own 
dignity or the respect of his pupils. If the garb in which 
a point was dressed was homely, and perhaps too homely 
for the popular ear, yet amid the familiarities of the reci- 
tation-room it was not only lawful, but highly agreeable 
and instructive. What son of Auburn Seminary has 
forgotten the ability of Dr. Richards to relieve the tedium 
of a long recitation, or dry discussion. Some of us, 
after the lapse of nearly twenty years, can well remem- 
ber the very grateful convulsions which were created by 
the corruscations of his mighty intellect. Under the 
sallies of his sprightliness and strong common sense, we 
forgot our dyspepsy, and even the evil genius of the 
hypochondriac was sometimes dislodged and compelled 
to take his departure for a season. 

It is worthy also to be noticed, that his instructions, 
especially in the experimental parts of theology, were 
often characterized by an unction and warmth of feeling, 
by which he carried the sympathies of his class, and 
secured to his pupils a deeper and livelier impression of 
truth than they had ever before felt. An instance of 
this kind occurred a short time before his death, while 
illustrating the nature of that act of the mind and heart 
by which a sinner first embraces Christ as his Saviour. 
In illustrating this point he referred the class to his own 
experience in conversation, and the manner in which, 
from step to step, his mind was led. 

" As the venerable Professor proceeded in the narrative," says 
a member of the class, "his heart warmed in the remembrance of 
the circumstances and feelings connected with his conversion, He 
leaned forward, then rose from his seat, and with extended arms 
and flowing tears, ascribed his change to sovereign grace, and de- 
clared that his first act of faith was submission to the throne. 



9g BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

Would that I could recall all his language. The power of this 
living testimony carried conviction to our hearts, and we received 
impressions which will help us to understand and preach the truth, 
and which we shall carry with us to our graves." 

In the foregoing sketch of the life of Dr. Richards, 
we believe that no feature has been overdrawn; yet 
we do not claim that he had attained perfection. He 
ever cherished a deep sense of his deficiency in all 
things, especially in the Christian virtues. Though he 
had no sympathy with the doctrine that sinless perfec- 
tion is attained in this life, yet he believed that others 
came nearer to "the mark for the prize of the high 
calling of God " than himself. It may be said, however, 
that in his private, social and professional character, he 
was a man of uncommon excellence, and a distinguished 
light in the Church of God. We heartily endorse the 
following tribute to his memory, by his colleague, the 
Rev. Dr. Mills, as given in his funeral discourse : " But 
had he then no faults ? it may be asked. And if by the 
questi u be meant whether he had not some unhappy 
obliquity of temper, some habitual frailty, such as too 
often, even in men of general excellence, must be re- 
membered with regret by surviving friends, and which 
they would gladly forget and hide from view — if this be 
meant, we answer, we know of no such faults in him 
whose loss we mourn. A character whose whole exhib- 
ited such symmetry, such consistency, it is seldom our 
privilege to meet." 

But no degree of intellectual or moral worth is secu- 
rity against the power of death. But " he that believ- 
eth, though he were dead, yet shall he live." We 
cherish this precious hope with regard to our lamented 
and honored father. He has died but to live. A star 
of the first magnitude has disappeared, only to shine 
on a wider and higher orbit. What a constellation of such 
stars is gathering in heaven ! How bright their glories ! 



LECTURES 



ON 



MENTAL PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 



LECTURE I. 



ON THE WILL 



There are few subjects either more important or more 
difficult than those which pertain to the Witt. From 
time immemorial they have furnished themes of the most 
ardent controversy, on which men of the profoundest 
learning and talent have exhausted their powers. It 
would require a volume only to name the points in de- 
bate, without touching upon the arguments alleged for 
and against the opinions advanced. 

Among the leading questions which have been disputed 
are, What is the will, considered as a faculty or principle 
of the mind ? What are its phenomena ? and in what order 
developed ? Is it free ? and what does its freedom involve ? 
What determines the will ? Is it determined by its own effi- 
ciency ? or by something external to it ? or both ? How far 
do virtue and vice depend on the will ? And is moral char- 
acter predicable of all its acts, or of some only ? 

Our object is not to take up these inquiries in their 
order, nor exactly to confine our remarks to what belongs 
to them; but to give our views on the more essential 
points in this controversy, and to show occasionally what 
Edwards has taught in relation to these topics. We shall 
advert frequently to him, not because we pin our faith 
upon his sleeve, great and good as he was, nor because 
7 



98 ON THE WILL. 

we wish others to do it, but for the purpose of awakening 
a desire carefully to investigate his principles, believing he 
has done more than any other man in exploring the basis 
of human obligation, and in reconciling the responsibility 
of man with the predeterminate counsel of God. At all 
events, we consider him both scriptural and safe. Be- 
sides, his argument on the freedom of the will is unri- 
valed for its depth, its ingenuity and power, his opponents 
themselves being judges ; and it can scarcely fail to be 
a useful discipline to our minds, thoroughly to study this 
development of his. 

WHAT IS THE WILL 1 

According to this writer, "It is that by which the 
mind chooses anything. And the faculty of the will is 
that faculty, power or principle of the mind, by which it 
is capable of choosing. An act of the will is an act of 
choice." 

Some have thought it a better definition to say, " That 
the will is that by which the soul chooses or refuses." 
But Edwards contents himself with saying, it is that by 
which the soul chooses, because in every act of the will 
he supposes the mind chooses one thing rather than 
another— something, rather than the want of it — its exist- 
ence, rather than its non-existence. So in refusing, the 
mind chooses the absence of the thing refused. With the 
positive and negative set before it, it chooses the negative. 
Call the act of the will, therefore, by what name you 
please — choosing, refusing, approving, disapproving, liking, 
disliking, embracing, rejecting, determining, directing, com- 
manding, forbidding, inclining or being averse to, being 
pleased or displeased with — all may be reduced to that of 
choosing. Hence, for the soul to act voluntarily, is always 
to act elect ively. 

Some have made a distinction between willing and 
preferring. Mr. Locke says, " A man may prefer flying 



ON THE WILL. 



99 



to walking ; yet he never wills it, because he knows it 
to be impossible." The will, he thinks, is never called 
into exercise but in relation to our operative powders, and 
when something is to be done, or not done ; of course, 
that the will always terminates on some act of our own, 
either bodily or mental, and some act which we take to 
be in our power. Reid, Stew r art and Chalmers coin- 
cide w r ith him in this opinion. Preferring, according to 
these philosophers, sometimes expresses an act of the 
will, yet not always, and only when it relates to some 
action of our own which we regard as practicable. Ed- 
wards takes a different view of this subject. He sup- 
poses willing and preferring are the same thing, being 
always acts of the same faculty — in other words, that 
every preference is a choice, and every choice an act 
of the will. As to flying, he holds that a man may be 
said indirectly and remotely to choose it, though he never 
chooses to put forth any bodily exertion in order to fly. 
With respect to walking, it is different. Here the next 
and immediate object of choice is the alteration of the 
bodily organs, with the view to an end, and with the 
expectation of accomplishing that end. If the man be 
at rest, and prefers walking, he determines to make an 
immediate use of his bodily organs for that purpose. 
If already in the act of walking, he wills to continue or to 
suspend the action of these organs, as is most agreeable 
to him. But his will, in this case, is neither more nor 
less than his choice, though the choice immediately ter- 
minates on an object different from that in the case of 
flying. He who prefers flying to walking, chooses between 
two modes of conveyance, considered simply in them- 
selves, and without taking into view the question whether 
they are alike in his power ; but he makes no effort to 
fly, and he chooses none, and inclines to none, because 
he knows it w r ould be unavailing. Of course, his choice 
in this case is not immediate and direct, but remote and 



100 ON THE WILL. 

indirect : still he chooses, and this choice is an act of the 
will, though not such an act, attended by such circum- 
stances, as when he chooses to walk. 

The doctrine of Edwards is, that preferring to fly and 
willing to walk are both acts of choice, both exercises of 
one and the same faculty, the faculty of the will ; and 
that the only difference between them lies in the differ- 
ent objects on which the choice terminates, and the 
circumstances attending it. 

Still, we hold it right to admit that the customary use 
of language, which determines its propriety, will not allow 
us to use the terms willing and preferring as if they were 
precisely synonymous. To will is a stronger term than to 
choose or to prefer, and is more commonly applied to those 
acts of choice which immediately respect our own actions. 
I cannot correctly say, i" will meat, I will drink, or I will 
veal instead of mutton; but I may say, I prefer the one to 
the other. It would be bad English for a man to say, 
I will to be as fleet as the roe, or as strong as the lion; 
but he might correctly say, I should like to be, or should 
prefer to be. Things which are not at my option are not 
properly in my power; and though I may indirectly 
choose or prefer them, I cannot according to correct 
usage say, I will or purpose them. These terms more 
appropriately relate to some action of mine, and some 
action for some end. But if either the action or the end 
be deemed impossible, it would be contrary to the law 
of my rational nature to will or purpose in the case. So 
far, then, as the mere use of terms is concerned, it would 
seem that we always prefer what we will, but do not 
always will what we prefer — custom having limited the 
terms willing and volition to that class of our feelings or 
desires which terminate immediately on some action of 
our own. 

The examples given by President Edwards do not 
militate against this. He asks, indeed, " If a man's 



ON THE WILL 



101 



choosing, liking best, or being pleased with a thing, are 
not the same as willing that thing, according to these 
general and natural notions which men have upon this 
subject ? Thus an act of the will is commonly expressed 
by its pleasing a man to do thus or thus ; and a man's 
doing as he will, or doing as he pleases, are the same 
thing in common speech." But who does not see that 
in these examples some act of our own is concerned, as 
that on which the will terminates ? Here is a man doing 
as he wills, and doing as he pleases — and its pleasing 
him to do thus or thus. Something then, it seems, in all 
these cases, is to be done. Some action, bodily or mental, 
is contemplated as that on which the will terminates. 

Such forms of speech, though they settle nothing ulti- 
mately, yet as far as they go, seem to limit the act of 
willing to something to be done or not done ; to some- 
thing as the fruit or effect of willing ; or rather they 
show that the phrase to will is not so wide a term as to 
prefer, the former being limited by custom to our own 
personal acts. President Edwards, in his Treatise on the 
Affections, admits this, though he contends, and may 
contend justly, that all our desires, choices, preferences and 
affections, are exercises of one and the same faculty — the 
faculty of will. 

Locke makes a distinction, also, between will and desire, 
maintaining that they are different states of mind, and 
may often run counter to each other. To prove this, he 
gives the following example : " A man, I cannot deny, 
may oblige me to use persuasions with another, which, 
at the time I am speaking, I may wish may not prevail upon 
him." In this case, he thinks it plain that will and desire 
run counter. "I will the action that tends one way, 
whilst my desire tends another, and that the direct con- 
trary way." Sucli instances, Edwards remarks, do not 
prove the will to be different from desire, or that one can 
be opposed to the other. Will, he admits to be a term 



102 0N TH E WILL. 

of larger signification than desire; but denies that a man's 
will and desire can ever oppose each other, where the 
objects on which they terminate are precisely the same. 
If the objects are different, then will may be opposed to 
will, and desire to desire. In this we think him right — 
right as to the facts in the case, and right in saying that 
such examples as given by Mr. Locke do not prove a 
diversity between will and desire. But we might ask, do 
they prove the contrary ? The question is still open to 
debate, and cannot be settled, we imagine, by an appeal 
to the ordinary use of terms. I may admit that, accord- 
ing to the usus loquendi, a certain class of our feelings, or 
states of mind, may more appropriately be called volitions, 
or acts of will, than a certain other class, which, never- 
theless, I hold to be exercises of the will, and therefore 
volitions, though not usually so denominated. I may 
contend that all our desires are but so many develop- 
ments of the will, showing its inclination or disinclination 
to the objects in view, and still allow that many of them 
are not commonly called volitions, though truly and pro- 
perly acts of will. 

The point at issue between Locke and Edwards was 
simply this : whether all our desires, of whatever form 
or character, are exercises of will, or that class of desires 
only, which immediately relate to our actions, bodily or 
mental. Mr. Locke maintained that the will is conver- 
sant only with our operative powers, and therefore, call 
its exercise desire or choice, or what you will, it never 
acts but in the direction of our operative faculties. Con- 
sequently he allows nothing to be a volition or act of will, 
but some desire or choice of the mind, which terminates 
on some action of our own. While, in opposition to him, 
President Edwards contends that the will is immediately 
concerned in all our desires, choices, preferences, likes and 
dislikes, let them be directed to what object they may ; 
though he admits they do not so commonly take the name 



ON THE WILL. 



103 



of volitions, except where they relate to some action for 
some end. He was well aware of the customary use of 
language, but he did not suppose that this use could settle 
the deep and recondite principles of philosophy, whether 
physical or moral. It might determine what are the com- 
monly-received opinions of men, but could do little in 
deciding whether those opinions were well or ill founded. 
He chose, therefore, to examine for himself, and to judge 
of the powers of the mind by the states of the mind ; and 
of these states, as they appeared to his own consciousness. 
Whether he formed a correct judgment, it is the privilege 
of every one to inquire. Dr. Brown, Mr. Payne, and a 
multitude of others, coincide with him. Reid, Stewart, 
Chalmers, and the Scotch Metaphysicians generally, agree 
with Mr. Locke. They consider our desires and affections 
only as incentives to volition, not as volitions themselves. 
Yet we might ask, what is a volition but a desire ? a 
desire of one thing rather than another with which it is 
compared ? and what is such a desire but a choice ? 
which surely must be an act of the will, or of the 
elective faculty. When I raise my hand to my head, by 
a simple act of volition, what more am I conscious of, so 
far as the mental process is concerned, than that I desire 
it, rather than the contrary ? Do you say that I desire 
it for some end, and that I believe it practicable ? We 
grant that these are circumstances connected with the 
desire, and may be necessary to call it into being. But 
the desire itself, apart from these circumstances, appears 
no otherwise to my consciousness than any other desire ; 
or if there be a difference, it is no other than what is 
occasioned by the object on which it terminates. The 
desire of wealth and the desire of fame both flow from the 
same power or susceptibility of mind ; yet, to our con- 
sciousness, they seem somewhat different, as the objects 
are different which excite them ; and this, perhaps, is 
true of that entire class of feelings which we denominate 



104 0N THE WILL - 

affections; though springing from the same general power 
and susceptibility of mind, they assume to us different 
aspects, chiefly from the fact that they are awakened 
by different objects. 

Allow me here to remark, that while President Ed- 
wards takes the terms willing and choosing in so compre- 
hensive a sense as to include all the desires and incli- 
nations of the mind, he makes no attempt to show the 
correctness of this doctrine, except what appears in his 
brief answer to Mr. Locke. Perhaps he thought it 
enough to rest in the popular and long-received opinion 
on the subject, until some one was able to set it aside, 
or at least should make a more promising effort for this 
purpose than Mr. Locke had apparently done. It has 
also been noticed as rather a singular fact, that while 
Edwards takes this broad ground with respect to the 
nature and operation of the will, he seldom alludes to it 
in the first three parts of his great work on the subject 
of the will. His illustrations are almost uniformly taken 
from what are, by way of distinction, called deliberate 
acts of the will, that is to say, those acts which contem- 
plate something to be done or not done. This might be 
the best ground on which to meet his opponents, and 
perhaps, from the tenor of their sentiments and the na- 
ture of their warfare, it was absolutely necessary that 
this course should be taken. Yet one can hardly help 
wishing that he had paid more attention to those primary 
states of mind, from which the deliberate and imperate 
acts of the will proceed ; enough, at least, to inform us 
how far he supposed his doctrine concerning one class 
of volitions would hold true with respect to the other. 

There is no room to doubt, however, that he consid- 
ered willing and desiring the same thing, and not different 
things — the mere development of the same faculty. Of 
course, that no man wills what he does not desire, nor 
desires what he does not will, when the same and not 



ON THE WILL. 



105 



different objects are regarded. Hence, all our inclina- 
tions and affections are considered by him as exercises 
of the will. This appears from many parts of the work 
to which we have already alluded, but is distinctly dis- 
cussed in his Treatise on the Affections. Thus on page 
124: " The affections/' he says, "are no other than the 
more vigorous and sensible exercises of the will : that 
God has endowed the soul with two faculties — one, that 
by which it is capable of perception or speculation ; or 
by which it discerns, views and judges of things : this is 
called the understanding. The other is that by which 
the soul does not merely perceive and view things, but 
is in some way inclined, with respect to the things it 
views and considers ; either is inclined to them, or is 
disinclined, or averse from them : or it is the faculty by 
which the soul does not behold things as an indifferent 
and unaffected spectator ; but either as liking or disliking, 
pleased or displeased, approving or rejecting." " This fac- 
ulty," he adds, " is called by various names. It is some- 
times called the inclination, and as it has respect to the 
actions which are governed by it, it is called the will ; 
and the mind, with regard to the exercise of this faculty, 
is called the heart. The will and the affections of the 
soul are not two faculties; the affections are not essen- 
tially distinct from the will, nor do they differ from the 
mere actings of the will and inclination of the soul, but 
only in the liveliness and sensibleness of the exercise." 
He confesses "that language on this subject is somewhat 
imperfect, and the meaning of words, in a considerable 
measure, loose and unfixed, and not precisely limited by 
custom, which governs the use of language. In some 
sense the affection of the soul differs nothing at all from 
the will and inclination ; for the will is never, in any 
exercise, any farther than it is affected.* It is not moved 

* Nor the understanding either. 



106 0N THE WILL. 

out of a state of perfect indifference any otherwise than 
as it is affected one way or other, and acts nothing any 
farther. But yet, there are many actings of the will and 
inclination that are not so commonly called affections. 
In everything we do, wherein w^e act voluntarily, there 
is an exercise of the will and inclination that governs 
us in our actions ;* but all the actings of the inclination 
and will, all our common actions in life, are not ordina- 
rily called affections. Yet what are called affections are 
not essentially different from them, but only in the de- 
gree and manner of exercise. In every act of the will 
whatsoever, the soul either likes or dislikes, is either in- 
clined or disinclined to what is in view ; and these are not 
essentially different from the affections of love and hatred. 
That liking or inclination of the soul to a thing, if it be 
in a high degree, or vigorous, is the same thing as the 
affection of love ; and that disliking or disinclining, if 
(it be) in a great degree, is the same with hatred." 

All this is exceedingly explicit, so far as the opinions 
of this great man are concerned. He undoubtedly be- 
lieved that all the inclinations and desires of the soul, 
towards the various objects in view, are properly acts or 
exercises of the will — though not all denominated volitions 
in the common acceptation of the word. " There are 
many actings of the will, which are not commonly called 
affections" What actings are these ? and what are they 
usually called ? They are such actings as are concerned 
in the common actions of life — actions brought about by 
a direct act of the will, or purpose ; and these actings, 
every one knows, are usually called volitions. Yet such 
volitions are not ordinarily called affections; nor are the 
affections ordinarily called volitions — but in Edwards' 
view, they are all alike acts or exercises of will. He 
could see no difference in that power or principle of the 

* Mr. Locke would say that the will is exercised in nothing else. 



ON THE WILL. 



107 



mind, which directs and governs our mental and bodily- 
actions, and that power or principle which is pleased or 
displeased, with any object presented to the mind's view. 
In the one case the soul is pleased or displeased with a 
proposed action, as the next and immediate object of 
choice : in the other, with an object which is not an ac- 
tion — at least not an action of our own, proposed to be 
done or forborne. In both cases there is liking or dislik- 
ing, embracing or rejecting, choosing or refusing, and to 
what power or principle of the mind, he would ask, can 
any of these things be referred, but to the will ? The 
objects which occasion them may be different, and the 
circumstances and results different ; but in themselves 
wiiat are they ? but the various developments of one 
and the same faculty, the will? 

At the same time it has been common, and we intend 
to show that it is important, to distinguish one class of 
volitions from another. Those which terminate on some 
action of our own, have been called deliberate acts — and 
imperate acts of the will, and not unfrequently determi- 
nate acts — because they are more the result of delibera- 
tion, and determine and govern the action on which they 
fix ; while those which contemplate no action as their 
immediate result, are called immanent acts of the will. 
They remain in the mind, and do not flow out into ac- 
tion. 

It is of little importance by what names these two 
classes of volitions are distinguished, provided the terms 
agreed on be well understood and carefully remembered; 
but in our apprehension it is immensely important to the 
cause of truth, that the volitions themselves be distinguished. 
Though admitted to be exercises of the same faculty, and 
to be phenomena of the same generic character, yet they 
are clothed with very different circumstances ; and W6 
shall find, upon examination, that what is true of the one 



IQg ON THE WILL. 

is not always true of the other, and that in several im- 
portant particulars. 

First. As we have seen already, it is true of the 
deliberate or imperate acts of the will, that they always 
stand connected with our operative faculties, and termi- 
nate on some action of our own which we take to be in 
our power ; whereas, immanent acts of the will never 
thus terminate. They never fix on something to be done, 
or not done, and consequently never flow out in action of 
any kind — except so far as they may become incentives 
to action, and thus influence the will in its deliberative 
and determinate acts. 

Second. Virtue and vice are primarily and properly 
pre die able only of immanent volitions, or acts of will. 
They are the seat of all culpability and praiseworthi- 
ness; while the deliberate acts of the will do not consti- 
tute, but merely indicate, the moral character of the agent. 

We take it, there is no one common sense notion bet- 
ter established than this. If the moral affections are 
right, the actions will be right, and the deliberate acts of 
the will, from which these actions immediately proceed. 
If the moral affections be wrong, they will give birth to 
purposes and acts which are wrong. This is so obvious 
as a general statement, that there seems no room for 
doubt or disputation. For it is neither more nor less than 
saying that when the heart is right all will be right, and 
vice versa. Yet, when we come to inquire into the mat- 
ter, we find no person attributing moral qualities to the 
external action, disconnected with the volition which 
produced it, nor to the volition, apart from the motive or 
feeling which excited it. We ask, indeed, if the action 
was voluntary ? because, if it were merely accidental, or not 
intended, it could not indicate a state of moral feeling of 
any kind, nor be the legitimate expression of any. But 
when we have ascertained that the action was voluntary, 



ON THE WILL. JQ9 

we are not prepared to pronounce on the character of the 
agent, until we know the motive by which his voli- 
tion in the case was dictated. If this was virtuous, 
we pronounce the agent virtuous; if this was sin- 
ful, we pronounce him to be sinful. Thus we always 
judge of character by the state of the moral affections, or 
the disposition of the agent ; and could we know these, 
previous to the deliberate acts of the will, and to the 
actions which that will occasions, we should form pre- 
cisely the same judgment of men's character, before they 
have willed or acted, as afterwards. By the very constitu- 
tion of our minds, we are led to refer the merit and 
demerit of every action to the state of the heart whence 
it originated. On this ground it is, that the Scriptures 
declare, " That he that hateth his brother is a murderer ; 
and he that looketh on a woman, to lust after her, hath 
committed adultery with her already in his heart." The 
language of God's law is, " Thou shalt not covet," and 
the sacred precept is broken whenever the covetous feel- 
ing arises, though the purpose to gratify it should never 
be formed. To form such a purpose would indicate the 
reality, and perhaps the strength and permanency of the 
feeling ; yet the moral obliquity lies not in the purpose, 
any more than in the hand which executes the purpose. 
This must be traced up to the heart, or to the corrupt 
feelings which gave birth to the purpose, and which the 
purpose presupposes and indicates. Again : 

Third. When it is said, " a man can if he will, or he could 
if he would, or he may if he pleases," we must understand 
in all such cases, that a deliberate act of the will is spoken 
of; for such phrases can have no application to an im- 
manent act. An immanent act of the will contemplates 
no action as its fruit and consequent, and is followed by 
none ; consequently, no action, or power of action, is sus- 
pended upon it. This is true only of deliberative and 
determinate acts of the will. And yet how often will you 



1X0 0N THE WILL - 

hear from the pulpit and elsewhere, such forms of ex- 
pression as these : " You can love God, if you will — and 
hate sin, if you will — and repent, if you will!" — a lan- 
guage improper, on several accounts. First, it supposes, 
contrary to fact, that love to God, and hatred to sin, and 
sorrow for it, arise in the mind in consequence of some 
antecedent act, immediately willing, and purposing these 
affections ; whereas, among philosophers and metaphysi- 
cians it is a conceded point, that they never arise in this 
manner, but are always spontaneous — rising up in view 
of the objects on which they terminate, and which are 
their true causes or antecedents. This language is im- 
proper, in the second place, because it makes a voluntary 
state of mind, or volition itself, the thing immediately 
willed— and which involves the absurdity of willing to 
will — an occurrence which nobody supposes to be prac- 
ticable. But, thirdly, were it practicable to will an affec- 
tion, or voluntary state of mind, into being, it must be 
willed for some end, which is agreeable or pleasing to 
the agent. What shall that end be ? Say I will to love 
God : Is it because the love of God is an affection in 
itself agreeable to me ? then I possess it already, and do 
not will it into being, since it had gained existence ante- 
rior to my willing. Or do I will to love God for some 
selfish end, believing that it might contribute to my future 
welfare ? Can any man suppose that such a selfish act 
would beget true love to God ? or make the least approx- 
imation towards it ? No stream can flow higher than its 
fountain. What begins in selfishness must end in selfish- 
ness ; as all experience shows, and all analogy demon- 
strates. But the point to which we wish to draw your 
attention, is the difference which exists between the 
deliberate acts of the will, and the immanent acts ; the 
one always contemplating some action as its immediate 
fruit and effect — and the other, never. Hence it is pro- 
per, with respect to one class of volitions, to say you can 



ON THE WILL. 



Ill 



do thus or thus, if you will, or you can do this or that, 
if you would ; because in such cases you speak of an 
action, which would follow as the immediate consequent 
of volition, and which is suspended upon that volition ; 
but there is no propriety in such language when applied 
to the other class of volitions — that is, to the immanent 
acts of the will ; for here no action is contemplated, or 
will follow upon the existence of such acts. They are 
neither produced by preceding acts of will, nor do they 
produce acts of any kind; they spring up, as we have 
said, spontaneously in view of their several objects, and 
have no other antecedents than these objects themselves, 
and the powers and susceptibilities and habits of the 
mind. Let it not be forgotten then that when such ex- 
pressions are used as " you can if you will, and you could 
if you would," respect is always had, or should be had, 
to a deliberate act of the will — and to some action as its 
appropriate result — and not to an immanent act, which 
terminates on no such action, but simply on some object 
in which it rests. This opens the way for a 4th remark, 
namely, That deliberate acts of the will, as they never 
arise but in view of some action, so they never arise but 
in view of some action which we believe to be in our 
power, and which we expect as the immediate conse- 
quent of our volition. For why should we attempt to 
act, if we knew, or believed beforehand, it would be in 
vain. Such an attempt would be irrational, and without 
motive. Hence, deliberate acts of the will are always 
connected with belief — and with belief of the possibility 
of something to be done, and done by us j and they would 
not arise but for the prior existence of such belief. Now 
it is entirely different with the immanent acts of the will ; 
they arise without believing the practicability of any- 
thing, because nothing practicable or impracticable is con- 
templated as the result of their exercise. They termi- 
nate on an object pleasing or displeasing to the mind, not 



\\2 ON THE WILL. 

on an action, bodily or mental, as the expected conse- 
quent and fruit of their existence. There is belief, indeed, 
prior or coincident with their being — belief in the objects 
which excite them — belief in their own existence, when 
to the mind's apprehension or consciousness they do exist 
— and belief also in the subject mind, whose acts or exer- 
cises they are ; but there is no belief in any practicable 
result from their exercise in order to their exercise ; nor is 
there any belief in their own possibility, or practicability, 
as feelings or states of mind — none, I mean, as the ante- 
cedent ground or cause of their existence. They arise, 
as we have more than once remarked, spontaneously, in 
view T of their appropriate objects ; and men know that 
they can love or hate, because they do love or hate — 
just as they know that they can reason and remember, 
because they do reason and remember. When a mother 
looks upon the smiling infant in her arms, and her bosom 
heaves with affection, does she first consider the practi- 
cability of her love, and believe her love attainable, before 
she exercises love ? Everybody knows to the contrary ; 
and so far as the mere act of volition is concerned, it may 
well be questioned whether the belief that I can will or 
can nill has anything at all to do, as the antecedent 
ground or cause of willing in any case. For how does 
a man know that he has the capacity of willing in 
one form or another, but by the mere fact that he does 
will, and in such forms as this class of phenomena as- 
sumes. Still we do not take back the statement, that 
our deliberate acts of will always arise in connection 
with a belief of the practicability of the thing willed, or 
of the action chosen. For this enters into the motive for 
willing it, and without such belief no rational induce- 
ment would exist. But who does not see a difference 
between believing the action, or thing willed, to be prac- 
ticable, and believing the volition which antecedes the 
action to be so ? It is one thing, surely, to believe that 



ON THE WILL. 213 

I can raise my hand to my head, and another that I have 
a capacity for willing or choosing it, when adequate mo- 
tives are presented. But be this as it may, the imma- 
nent acts of the will stand in no connection with the 
practicability of any results as flowing from them. They 
contemplate no results, they believe none — none cer- 
tainly as the antecedent cause or ground of their exist- 
ence. 

What, then, shall we think of that philosophy or divin- 
ity which makes no distinction between immanent and 
deliberate acts of the will ? and none between the action 
willed and the act of willing — and assumes that neither 
the one nor the other can exist without a previous or con- 
comitant belief that it will or may exist ? " You cannot 
love God, till you believe that you can ; nor hate sin till 
you believe that you can." c And hence the great im- 
portance of persuading men, not only that they have all 
the ability which is requisite to obligation, but all that is 
necessary to make sure of its performance ; for until this 
persuasion exists, they in fact can do nothing, and will 
do nothing, because these is no adequate motive to action. 
For as men never will an action till they believe that 
action practicable ; so they cannot will to love, or hate, 
till they believe these acts or exercises practicable ' — 
taking it for granted that the cases are precisely par- 
allel ; whereas, to an eye not hoodwinked by ignorance 
or blinded by prejudice, the two cases compared will 
appear wide as the poles. In the one, an action is con- 
templated and sought, as the fruit of volition, and believed 
to be its legitimate consequent : in the other, there is no 
such action recognized, sought, or believed at all. In the 
one case, something is designed or intended : in the 
other, there is no design, purpose or intention, whatso- 
ever ; but the mind simply loves or hates, is pleased or 
displeased, with the object it beholds. 

I close by saying not in the words, but in the spirit of 
8 



114 ON THE WILL. 

an ingenious author, who has written an Introduction to 
Edwards on the Will, that until we mark with care the 
different classes of feelings called acts of the will, we can 
never hope to understand the subject of human volition, 
nor bring to a successful issue the disputes which relate 
to it. 



LECTURE II. 



ON THE WILL. 



In the remarks already submitted in a former lecture, 
on the subject of the will, we attempted to show a broad 
line of distinction, between what are denominated im- 
manent, and deliberate acts of the will ; that though 
exercises of the same faculty, they are very differently 
circumstanced — and that things predicable of the one, 
are not necessarily predicable of the other. We men- 
tioned four particulars in which they stand distinguished. 

1st. The deliberate, or imperate acts of the will are 
always connected with our operative faculties, and ter- 
minate on some action which we believe to be in our 
power, while the immanent acts never thus terminate. 
They fix on no action ; they flow out in none, except 
so far as they become motives, or incentives, to delibe- 
rate acts of the will. 

2d. That virtue and vice are primarily and properly 
predicable of immanent acts of the will only — the delibe- 
rate acts not constituting, but merely indicating, the 
character of the moral agent. 

3d. That in such phrases as these, "A man can if 
he will, or coidd if he would, or may if he please," respect 
must always be had to a deliberate act of the will, because 
such phrases can have no application to an immanent 
act. An immanent act contemplates no action as its im- 



116 ON THE WILL. 

mediate fruit, or effect, and is followed by none. Neither 
action therefore, nor the power of action, is immediately 
suspended upon it, as in the case of a deliberate act of 
the will, and 

4th. That deliberate acts of the will never arise, but 
in view of some action of our own, and some action which 
we believe to be in our power, and which we anticipate 
as the consequent of our volition. But with the imma- 
nent acts of the will, it is otherwise. They arise spon- 
taneously, in view of their appropriate objects, without 
considering whether anything in relation to them is 
practicable or impracticable. They contemplate no 
results, as the ground of their exercise, and properly 
aim at none. They terminate on no action, bodily or 
mental, as their expected consequent — and hence there 
is no belief in relation to the consequent ; whether it 
will or will not follow. 

If these distinctions are well founded, it will be seen, 
at once, that they are vitally important ; and that no 
clear views of the subject of human volition can ever 
be attained, while these distinctions are either overlooked 
or disregarded. 

To the second of these distinctions, I propose now to 
ask your renewed attention: and I do it for two reasons; 
first, because it is peculiarly important in itself, and 
secondly, because it draws after it consequences of the 
deepest moment to moral and religious truth. 

The distinction is this : That virtue and vice are pri- 
marily and properly predicable of immanent acts of the 
will only, the deliberate acts merely indicating, not con- 
stituting the character of the moral agent. 

That this was the opinion of Edwards, there cannot 
be the least doubt ; for besides what he said touching 
this subject in his Treatise on the Will, I present you with 
a strong quotation from a subsequent work of his, on 
original sin (page 171) : " This," says he, " is the gene- 



ON THE WILL. 



117 



ral notion (of mankind) — not that principles derive their 
goodness from actions, but that actions derive their good- 
ness from the principles whence they proceed ; so that 
the act of choosing that which is good, is no farther 
virtuous, than it proceeds from a good principle, or 
virtuous disposition of mind." 

By choosing, in this passage he obviously means a 
deliberate act of choice, which terminates on something 
to be done or not done ; and by principle, or virtuous 
disposition of mind, he means something of which the 
mind is conscious, and which is seen to be virtuous — 
some right affection of the mind, something, which ac- 
cording to him, may be distinguished from ambition, or 
mere self-love — and therefore most certainly some exercise 
or emotion. In close connection with this passage, he 
quotes with approbation, from Mr. Hutchison, the follow- 
ing paragraph : 

" Every action which we apprehend, as either morally 
good, or morally evil, is always supposed to flow from 
some affections towards sensitive natures. And whatever 
we call virtue or vice, is either some such affeztion, or 
some action consequent upon it. All the actions counted 
religious in any country, are supposed, by those who 
count them so, to flow from some affections towards the 
Deity, and whatever we call social virtue, we still sup- 
pose to flow from affections towards our fellow-creatures. 5 ' 
Here is a full recognition of the fact, that all virtue 
and vice have their seat in the affections, and that no 
act of the will, which is consequent upon them, has 
moral character any farther than as it is expressive of 
the state of the affections. So it must be, if " actions 
derive their goodness from their principles, as Edwards 
teaches ; and if " the act of choosing that which is good, 
be no farther virtuous than as it proceeds from a virtuous 
disposition of mind." Because, if you separate the choice 
from the affection which gave birth to it, you instantly 
take away its virtuous character ; and if you attach to it 



X18 ON THE WILL. 

a vicious affection, as the spring, or source of its exer- 
cise, you render the choice vicious, and not virtuous. And 
the same may be said of the action or thing chosen. Its 
moral character, so far as it has any, is wholly derived 
from the state of moral feeling which induced the agent 
to act in the case. 

The conclusion we draw from the foregoing statement 
is, that strictly speaking, all right and wrong attaching 
to moral agents, is immediately and directly predicable of 
their affections, habits or dispositions — that is, of the im- 
manent acts of the will, and whatever is included in 
them ; and not of the emanant or deliberate acts of that 
faculty. We consider this just as certain as the admit- 
ted maxim, that the motive of the action, or the quo animo, 
determines the character of the action. Hence two ob- 
vious corollaries. 

1st. If right and wrong can and do exist anterior to the 
deliberate acts of the will, and independent of them, 
then moral agency must exist anterior also, and be alike 
independent of such deliberate acts. For it would be 
absurd to suppose that there is either right or wrong in 
a moral sense, where there is no obligation, no law — or 
that there should be obligation, where there is no moral 
agent, or subject of law. In the order of nature, at least, 
moral agency must precede law ; and law must precede 
conformity, or non-conformity, to its demands. 

2d. If moral agency exists anterior to the deliberate 
acts of the will, then it is not necessary to resort to these, 
nor to any of the principles or laws by which they are 
governed, to ascertain what moral agency is, and what is 
essential to its being. It has gained complete existence, 
before these acts of the will occur, and their occurrence 
does nothing more than indicate or proclaim the charac- 
ter of the agent. They afford probable evidence whether 
his agency has been exercised in conformity to law, or 
against it — and, so far as blame or praise worthiness is 
concerned, this is all they can do. 



ON THE WILL. ;Q9 

To what purpose then is it asked, whether in our 
deliberate and determinate volitions, we have power to 
choose otherwise than we do choose ? — whether the 
strongest motive governs the will in this case, or does 
not govern it ? — whether we believe the object thus 
chosen to be in our power, or not in our power ? To 
what purpose are these, and similar questions asked, 
with a view to settle our accountability, when, if the 
foregoing statement is true, the whole business of our 
responsibility is settled before we come to these questions, 
settled by the voice of conscience, and the common sense 
of mankind, attesting the indubitable fact, that our blame 
and praise worthiness, primarily and radically consists in 
those moral affections which antecede all our deliberate 
choices, and give character to them, so far as character 
they have. 

Most certain it is, that if these antecedent affections 
have a moral character, he is responsible for them 
whose affections they are — they are properly placed to 
his account, as his acts, his exercises, for which as an 
accountable being he must answer. To say that they have 
moral character, and yet the subject of them not respon- 
sible, would be manifestly absurd : for nothing can have 
moral character which is not referable to law ; and what 
reference can there be to law, where there is no subject 
of law, and no acts of such subject to be referred ? To 
admit that these affections are morally good, or morally 
evil, is, of course, to admit that the subject of them, so 
far as they are concerned, sustains the same character, 
and that upon the ground of his being a moral agent, 
who, in the exercise of these affections, has exercised 
his moral agency. At this very point it is, that the law 
of God reaches us, and our whole character is deter- 
mined in his sight, not hy what we deliberately will or 
propose, but by those affections, which we exercise ante- 
rior to all deliberate volitions or purposes whatsoever. 



120 0N THE WILL. 

Do we not find our moral agency complete, then, 
before we come to our deliberate and determinate voli- 
tions ? How else could we be responsible for those 
anterior and primary choices, which we call affections 
and desires ? and how else could the entire moral char- 
acter be measured in God's sight, and decided by these ? 

The ground which we take is, that the law of God 
reaches man in the earliest development of his moral 
feelings, and requires him, first of all, to love his Maker 
with all his heart, soul, strength and mind, and his 
neighbor as himself: — of course that it prohibits what- 
soever is contrary to this ; be it an immoderate regard 
to himself, or to any of the creatures, which God has 
made, when compared with Him, who is the infinite 
source of being, and the sum of all excellence. We 
admit, indeed, that a thousand other things are required 
of man, in filling up the sphere of his activity ; yet all is 
to be done as the proper fruit and expression of that love 
which the law immediately and primarily enjoins. And 
God is no farther obeyed than this great law of love is 
actually complied with. Do what you will — purpose 
what you will — there is not a particle more of virtue in 
it, than there is of that holy, disinterested love, which 
the law immediately respects, and which ought to be 
the great incentive to every deliberate act and purpose 
of the soul. 

This cannot well be denied, and perhaps will be 
cheerfully conceded : at the same time we may be told, 
that we overlook an important fact in the case, namely, 
That man, as a rational and moral being, has the power 
of introverted action, can turn his eye inward upon him- 
self, and act upon himself. Not only is he able to 
consider his ways and his doings, but the causes and 
springs of those ways and those doings. He can bring 
before his mind facts and considerations, which are 
fitted to abate the strength of his wrong affections, and 



ON THE WILL. 121 

to awaken and invigorate those which are virtuous. In 
short, that he can modify his motives in the requisite 
manner and degree, in consequence of the power, direct 
or indirect, which his will has over the objects which 
excite his affections or desires. Were it not for this 
power, he could not he bound to have his affections 
otherwise than they are ; but with it, it is reasonable he 
should be required to place his affections on the right 
objects and in the right measure. 

This is the ground taken by Chalmers and a host of 
others ; and on this ground, they rest the moral respon- 
sibility of man. They contend that without this power, 
man would not be a moral agent, nor obliged to regulate 
his affections according to the Divine law. They do not 
assert that man can directly will his affections into exist- 
ence, or will them out — that is, by the simple bidding 
of his will can place them on this object, or on that, con- 
trolling them as a man controls his limbs, by a direct 
act of choice. They were too well versed in the laws 
of mind, to adopt an opinion so utterly inconsistent with 
the state of facts. Nor do they pretend that he has the 
power to will objects into, or out of his mind, by a simple 
act of volition. They admit that the law of suggestion 
or association, has something to do in this business, and 
that often great difficulty is experienced in getting rid 
of one set of objects, and replacing them with others. 
Yet, on the whole, they think man has the power of 
doing this directly or indirectly ; and if not at once, still 
by degrees, and in such measure, that he may reasonably 
be held responsible to do it. For if he has the power, 
he is bound to exercise it, and in so doing, to control his 
affections by bringing before his mind the right objects, 
and shutting out from it the wrong ones. By a process 
of this kind, it is contended that virtuous affections may 
not only be awakened, but carried to their proper height, 
and vicious affections be repressed and annihilated. 



122 



ON THE WILL. 



Agreeably to this system, man's moral agency does not 
begin, and much less end in the mere fact of his having 
moral affections, or immanent acts of will, but is prima- 
rily concerned, and properly involved in his deliberate 
acts. As a contemplative and rational being, his duty is 
placed before him, together with the means of perform- 
ing it. These means he must consider, and determine 
to employ ; and in this determination, or in its opposite, 
his moral agency begins and ends ; and that prior to 
this, or back of this, there is neither agency nor account- 
ability. 

This is the spot, the very spot, where many of the 
mighty have fallen ; and here it becomes us to pause and 
look about us, and if we have any armor, to put it on. 
For if this doctrine be true, then is the system of Ed- 
wards overthrown — then does conscience give a falla- 
cious testimony — and the Bible itself become an enigma, 
which no philosophy can explain, nor the unlettered 
multitude understand. Only say that there is neither 
right nor wrong in what are called the moral affections, 
any farther than they are cherished by a deliberate act of 
the will, and we shall not only contradict the common 
sense of mankind, but take a step, which goes far to- 
wards shutting both virtue and vice out of the world. 
For, according to this system, what is virtue, and what 
is vice ? Not the existence of right and wrong affec- 
tions, but the mere indulgence or prolongation of these by 
a deliberate act of the will. Apart from this act, there 
is no vice, and no virtue. It is this, this act alone, 
which constitutes the essence of moral action, and the 
nature and sum of all merit or demerit in any case. 
Such is the doctrine. But here it is natural to inquire, 
whether this deliberate act of the will took place with- 
out motive ? No one, I suppose, will pretend that it 
did, and if it were pretended, it would be absurd on two 
accounts. First, because no reason could then be as- 



ON THE WILL. 



123 



signed why the volition was thus, and not otherwise. 
And secondly, because it could have no moral character 
of any kind. Influenced by nothing, it would be a mere 
determination to act without an end. But suppose the 
volition occurred through the influence of motive — where 
can you find that motive, but in some previous state or 
feeling of the mind, which inclined it to cherish the 
affection in the case ? Are we not, then, carried back to 
something antecedent to the volition to cherish ? and to 
something, too, which gives character to the volition, if 
character, it can have ? Why did I will to cherish the 
supposed affection, be it virtuous or vicious ? There must 
be some cause, ground or reason (if you would not have an 
effect without a cause). The cause was doubtless no 
other than the motive which determined me. But what 
was the motive ? Say, in the case of the virtuous affec- 
tion ? Was it a love for the virtuous affection itself? 
Did I contemplate it with delight, and hence desire its 
continuance ? Then that affection was lovely, it seems, 
in my estimation at least, before I loved it ; and did not 
become so in consequence of my love, or of my deter- 
mination to cherish it. Was it a dutiful regard to God, 
or his law, which determined me ? Then, according to 
the unequivocal voice of conscience, the motive was 
virtuous. It involved a feeling or state of mind which 
every one must recognize as right in itself, and distinct- 
ly required in the Divine law. But if virtuous at all, it 
was so without being produced by any antecedent voli- 
t ion, whether directly or indirectly; because no such 
volition is supposed, or can be supposed, in the case. 

I make another supposition. I was determined, by 
neither of the preceding motives, to cherish what I re- 
garded ns ;i virtuous affection, hut was influenced wholly 
by self-love. My own interest, not a regard to God's 
honor, or the good of others, was my inducement to act. 
Was this self-lore a virtuous feeling? It is the spring of 



124 ON THE WILL. 

many a specific volition ; and, in the unrenewed man, is 
doubtless a commanding principle of action. But I ask, 
is it virtuous ? or can it be supposed that an act of the 
will, moved and determined by it, will meet the ap- 
probation of Heaven, when it must be conceded that 
those higher motives which the law requires are alto- 
gether wanting ? There is, in truth, no cause for doubt 
here. Yet some one may say it is absurd to suppose 
that a man should resolve to cherish a virtuous affection, 
from mere self-love, because the very existence of such 
affection involves a virtuous state of mind, incompatible 
with reigning selfishness at the moment. We admit the 
case to be so. But who does not perceive that this is 
going upon the supposition that the affection to be cher- 
ished is, in itself, virtuous, and virtuous, antecedent to any 
purpose to cherish or prolong it ? But taking the ground 
of my opponent, that what is called virtuous affection 
is not virtuous per se, but becomes so, if so at all, by a 
resolution to cherish it; or rather, what is more properly 
intended, that this resolution itself is all the virtue there 
is in the case. On this ground, I say, I see not why the 
purpose, or will to cherish the supposed affection, may 
not as well arise from selfishness as from any other 
source, because the character of the volition is not ad- 
mitted to depend on the motive or principle from which 
it proceeds. Where then is virtue ? and where is vice ? 
They are both shut from the world, unless we can be 
made to believe that a deliberate act of the will has moral 
character, aside from, and independent of, the motive 
which governs it. But can we be made to believe this, so 
long as the quo animo shall be regarded as a sine qua non 
in the decision of moral character ? A deliberate act of 
the will, without motive, nobody supposes to be possible, 
or if possible could possess any moral quality. And such 
an act, with motive, must derive its character from the 
motive which determined it, unless our consciousness 



ON THE WILL. |25 

deceive us, and the settled notions of mankind on this 
subject be unfounded. But allow this, and you give 
moral character to motive — and to him whose motive it 
is — and that antecedently to the volition it occasioned 
or determined. Thus you carry back moral agency to 
those primary feelings, or immanent acts of the will, 
which are prior to all deliberative acts. Perhaps, how- 
ever, it will be said that we have not reconnoitered the 
whole ground ; that feeling or affection is not the only 
motive by which the will may be swayed in moral mat- 
ters ; that judgment and the moral sense often furnish in- 
ducement to action, when the heart is altogether indiffer- 
ent or averse to the thing proposed ; and that, for aught 
we know, a man may be led to yield to the claims of 
duty from the dictates of conscience alone. Suppose it 
were so. Can we make the inference that he has acted 
virtuoushj ? virtuously, I mean, in the highest and best 
sense of the term ? Will God approve him as having 
done his duty, in the absence of those motives which he 
can never fail to require. Let us put a case. 

A man deliberates whether he shall pay a just debt, 
having found that no law of man can compel him so to 
do. He perceives his obligation to yield to the demand 
of justice ; and conscience suggests the fitness of the 
thing, and the intrinsic baseness of refusing to another 
what he would certainly desire and claim for him- 
self. It reminds him that God is looking on, and 
that the day of recompense will come. Thus prompted, 
he determines to pay the debt, and perhaps feels a 
degree of self-approbation in what he lias done. But 
was it truly a virtuous determination? such as the 
all-seeing eye of God will approve ? By the supposi- 
tion, there was no love to his neighbor, no regard 
to the Divine honor, either felt or expressed on (he 
occasion. How, then, could the act be virtuous in the 
sight of Him whose law is summed up in low — love 



126 0N TH E WILL. 

to himself and to the creatures he has made ? But this 
is not all ; we have gone upon the supposition that the 
heart was not enlisted, because no right feeling prompt- 
ed to the action. But was it not enlisted ? Was it not 
moved by supreme self-love ? The man whose deter- 
mination we are considering, had a deep interest at 
stake, and one which he could not fail to see and to feel. 
Nor does it seem possible that he should not have been 
influenced by it. But conscience, you will say, moved 
him. Very true ; but what chiefly gave conscience its 
power ? It created no new principles of action in the 
mind, but simply addressed those which were already 
there. It decided, indeed, what ought to be done ; but 
in urging a compliance with duty, its chief power lay in 
stimulating the natural feelings or desires. In the self- 
ish bosom it deals principally with hope and fear, and 
influences to right action, (in form, at least,) not so 
much because it is right — a motive which the unsancti- 
fied never truly feel — but because of the good, or the ill, 
which stands connected with heeding or disregarding 
the call of duty. This good, or this ill, is the great, if not 
the only impelling power in the mind of an unrenewed 
man. Where there are higher principles, as in the heart 
of the truly virtuous, conscience may excite them, and be 
the occasion of their more vigorous action ; but where 
they are not, (though it requires them,) it would be un- 
reasonable to suppose that it can either address them or 
produce them. What is conscience, when developed, 
but our moral judgment, with reference to a supposed 
action, pronouncing it right or wrong, and the emotion 
of self-approbation or remorse which usually attends it ? 
In this operation of the mind there is neither virtue nor 
vice, nor can it be regarded as the immediate and pro- 
per source of any. We do not deny that conscience is 
one of the constituent principles of a moral agent, and, in 
this respect, necessary to acts of a moral character ; but 



ON THE WILL. 127 

in itself, we say, it has no such character. Though 
favorable to virtue, as it shows its obligations and urges 
their fulfillment, still it neither constitutes virtue nor 
necessarily leads to it, however clear in its convictions 
or powerful in its appeals. And the reason is, it can 
appeal only to such principles, feelings or desires, as 
actually exist. In looking, therefore, for the essence of 
moral virtue, we must go beyond the dictates and emo- 
tions of conscience ; we must have a motive which the 
exercise of this faculty can never supply, and which can 
be found only in the immanent exercises of the will or 
the moral affections. This we take to be just as cer- 
tain as that the heart is the seat of vice or virtue, and 
that the operations of conscience are distinguishable 
from the affections or the heart. [See note A. at the 
end.] 

I have dwelt longer on this article, because some 
ascribe to conscience a power which evidently does not 
belong to it ; a power not only of showing what duty is, 
and of urging a compliance with it, by an appeal to those 
principles and feelings which the mind possesses, but of 
generating new and correct feelings, and thus swaying 
it by motives which it never felt before. We know of 
no facts in the history of the mind which can sustain 
this opinion, while there are some at least, which appear 
strongly adverse to it. Look at the wretch who suffers 
the keenest remorse, while he exhibits not a particle of 
contrition but whose moral feelings, so far as they can be 
judged of, are as wide from what God requires, as when 
slumbering in a state of most fearless security. Many 
such cases have been seen in this world, and many more 
will be seen in the world which is to come, where con- 
science will display her tremendous power in convincing 
sinners, not only of their past misdeeds, but of their 
present obligations and their hourly-increasing guilt, 
while it urges them to desist from their desperate war- 



128 0N THE will. 

fare against God, but urges them in vain. The selfish 
heart will remain selfish still, notwithstanding the con- 
stant and powerful appeals of conscience against sin, and 
in favor of the Divine law. I am aware it may be said, 
that in that world hope never comes, and that this puts a 
difference between a sinner on earth and a sinner in hell. 
True, a difference exists, and a great difference, in point 
of present and prospective good. But what has this to do 
with the question before us ; the nature and power of 
conscience as a principle of action ? Conscience is the 
same principle there as here ; it makes its appeal to reason 
and to self-interest no less in that world than in this. If 
it does not address hope, it addresses fear, which is only 
another form of self-love ; and, as a motive to action, just 
as valuable as hope, deriving its character and its power 
from the same generic affection — a regard to our own 
welfare. It addresses this principle, too, under many 
advantages, the alluring objects of the world being re- 
moved, and with them all doubts of the reality of another 
and eternal world. God, his law, his government, stand 
forth before the eye of the soul, in all their matchless 
grandeur, carrying a deep and everlasting conviction of 
the justness of their claims. It cannot be questioned for 
a moment, that it is the sinner's interest, even in hell, to 
cease his hostility against his Maker; nor is it possible 
that he should not see and know this to be the fact. 
Why, then, does he not heed the voice of conscience, and 
submit to rightful authority, instead of flying in the face 
of the Almighty, and tempting him to fiercer vengeance ? 
It is surely not for want of clearly understanding the 
subject, nor because self-love or self-interest is not dis- 
tinctly and powerfully addressed, but because neither 
understanding nor self-love, however appealed to, will 
induce to right action, where the mind has lost its recti- 
tude, and is under the reigning power of sin. Why 
should they ? Considered as principles or motives, how 



OIS THE WILL. 



129 



can they impart to an action a character which they 
in no wise possess ? " Either make the tree good and 
the fruit good, or the tree corrupt and the fruit corrupt. 
A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bring- 
eth forth good things, and an evil man out of the evil 
treasure of his heart bringeth forth evil things." As is 
the heart or the affections, such will be the volition, the 
deliberate volition, which proceeds from it ; the motive and 
the volition always possessing the same character, so far 
as character is attributable to the latter ; and this not in 
one world, but in all worlds. Were it possible that I 
could be induced to act, by a mere thought or intellec- 
tion, without its ever touching my heart, the action would 
possess no moral character of any kind; or if I were 
moved by self-love to any deliberative act of will, that 
act could be regarded as no better than the motive which 
inspired it ; and if I contravened no law by this act, it 
would be no worse. 

We come then to the same conclusion as before, that 
there can be neither virtue nor vice in the world, if it 
be not found in the moral affections or immanent acts of 
the will. 

The mere exercise of conscience, we have seen, has 
no moral character, and can of itself directly impart 
none. This, we think, must be evident to all who attend 
to the constitution of the mind, and consider the relation 
which the several powers bear to each other. Unless 
we give up the principle which is natural to every man's 
creed, that the nature of the motive decides the nature 
of the action, we shall be compelled to believe that there 
is neither vice nor virtue, but in those primary feelings 
which we denominate affections or immanent acts of the 
will, or at most in those habits and tendencies which 
these involve. 

We might here close (he argument, but there are two 
or three other points which demand a more distinct 
9 



130 0N THE WILL. 

consideration. These we shall reserve for the next 
lecture. 

[Note A.] A mistake has often arisen on this subject, from not distinctly 
apprehending what is involved in acting conscientiously. To act conscientiously, 
in the highest and best sense of the expression, is not only to do the thing which 
conscience dictates, but to do it in the manner and form, and with the motives 
which conscience requires. Thus to do is always to act virtuously, if conscience 
be properly informed. But in a lower sense, a man is sometimes said to act con- 
scientiously, when he merely does the thing which conscience demands, though not 
with the high and holy motives which it requires ; as when he keeps the Sabbath, 
or pays his debts, merely or chiefly because he is afraid of disturbing his own 
peace, or incurring the Divine displeasure. In this case, we should all admit 
that there was no true virtue in his conduct, though he has, to a certain extent, 
acted according to the biddings of his conscience. That conscience prevails with 
a man, (therefore,) is no proof that he has done right, and that God accepts him, 
unless you know on what grounds, or for what reasons, it has prevailed ; and that 
these were such as the Divine law makes essential to right action. Overlooking 
this important ciroumstance has been a fruitful source of mistake, in arguing from 
conscience as a principle of action. Because to act conscientiously is, in some 
cases, to act virtuously, some have incautiously inferred that conscience was itself 
a principle of virtue, and that wherever it prevailed, the motive, of course, must 
be right, and the action consequently virtuous. But if we carefully consider what 
is implied in acting conscientiously, and the different senses in which the phrase is 
often employed, we shall clearly perceive that no such inference can be drawn. 
Conscience, when truly enlightened, is a rule of action, and to act in conformity 
to it, is doubtless to act virtuously ; but then we act from motives which conscience 
recommends, but which conscience, as a power or principle of the mind, can 
never supply. 



LECTURE III 



ON THE WILL 






The doctrine of our opponents is, that we are made 
responsible for our affections, when of a moral character, 
because we have the power, directly or indirectly, to 
modify them. We can bring before the mind those 
objects which will awaken and invigorate the right 
affections, and exclude those which would excite and 
maintain the wrong ones. This power, say they, is 
lodged in the will : the will controls the objects, and 
the objects the affections. And hence we are bound to 
have such affections, and of such strength, as the law of 
God requires, and to repress and exclude those which 
the law of God forbids. In this voluntary effort thus to 
regulate our affections, and not in any previous state of 
mind, consists the essence of virtue ; and in the neglect 
of this, and in efforts opposed to it, lies the essence of 
vice. Herein man's moral agency begins, if it does not 
end. 

But we have shown already that this voluntary effort, 
by which is intended a deliberative act of the will, 
cannot arise without a correspondent motive; and that 
this motive cannot be found but in the affections or im- 
manent acts of the will, which lie back of the delibera- 
tive acts, and which give them all the character they 
possess. 

We now ask, Why should these affections be cher- 
ished when right, and discouraged when wrong, if not right 



132 



ON THE WILL. 



and wrong in themselves — at least at the time, and in 
the circumstances, in which they are cherished? It 
would seem as if they were so regarded by the mind, 
when it sets itself to the labor of cherishing or repressing 
them. Nor can we well doubt that this is the unbiased 
voice of the moral faculty within us. But it may be 
replied, that anger is not wrong per se, yet may become 
so if it rises to excess : natural affection is not right or 
wrong per se, but may become wrong, both by excess 
and defect. Consequently, though these affections are 
neither right nor wrong in themselves, yet the law re- 
quires us to regulate them, and it is a part of virtue to 
do this. Suppose it were so — what follows ? Not that 
we have no moral affections, nor that these affections 
are not the source or spring of every moral act. Say, 
for example, I determine to restrain the passion of anger, 
which I apprehend is rising to excess, and that I en- 
deavor to call to mind those facts and considerations 
which I judge suitable to abate the fervor of my spirit. 
Has this voluntary effort any moral character ? If it has, 
it must arise from the motive or feeling which dictated 
and governed it. [Suppose I repress anger from cow- 
ardice, and not from a sense of its sinfulness.] So that in 
this case also we are carried back to the heart, or the 
moral affections, as the spring-head of our deliberate 
action, and the proper source of all the moral character 
it possesses. But have we in fact any moral affections ? 
affections which are moral in their own nature, inde- 
pendent of the fact of their being regulated or not? 
affections which are right or wrong in themselves, whether 
they exist in one degree (of strength) or another ? What 
is love to God, and love to man ? What is love to being 
in general — a love which is disinterested, impartial and 
universal ? What is love of complacency in virtuous and 
holy beings? Does not conscience perceive in these 
affections something morally excellent, let their amount 



ON THE WILL. 



133 



or degree be what they may ? And does it not perceive 
in their contraries something intrinsically base and im- 
moral? What is envy, malignity, hatred, revenge ? A 
man praises my rival, and I feel a painful emotion, not 
because I believe the praise to be unjust, but because I 
fear it is too sure an indication of my competitor's success. 
Is this feeling wrong per se ? No matter how it origi- 
nates, nor whether it [is a simple or compound feeling ; 
is it morally wrong t in every degree of it ? or does its 
immoral character depend on its strength or modification ? 
Common sense will be at no loss here. Again : The 
character of [God is exhibited, and I am displeased with 
it : to me it is unlovely, not to say hateful. Is this feel- 
ing wrong, and in .every measure of it, let its source be 
what it may ? Every unsophisticated mind, we should 
think, would answer in the affirmative. But it may and 
must be replied by my opponents : It is wrong because 
I cherish it, and jlo nothing to remove it. But what if I 
do cherish it ? How does this make it wrong, if not 
wrong before ? Why should I not cherish it ? Does it 
break any law ? and does conscience pronounce it wrong 
on this account ? Then wrong it is, antecedent to my 
cherishing or opposing it, because, in the very fact of its 
being wrong, the^reason is found why I should not cher- 
ish but oppose it. Do you say it is wrong, because it is 
a state of mind not in conformity with my relations to 
God and his government? You say truly ; but then you 
give it a character founded upon a reason which is prior 
to my judgment concerning it, and necessarily prior to 
any measures I may take to foster or oppose it. The 
truth is, it is simply seen to be wrong, as contradicting 
what my moral judgment pronounces to be fit and proper 
in the case. Nor does it make any difference whether 
this judgment is founded upon what is supposed to be 
the tendency of the wrong feeling, as it respects God or 
his creatures, or whether it is founded upon the intrinsic 



134 0N THE WILL - 

baseness of the feeling itself, as standing opposed to what 
I am constrained to regard as moral rectitude. I may be 
a utilitarian in my notions of virtue, or I may hold to a 
radical and essential distinction between virtue and vice 
considered in themselves, and apart from their tenden- 
cies ; yet I cannot escape from the strong and indubitable 
conviction, that certain moral feelings are so per se, and 
not because, by a direct or indirect act of my will, I can 
modify or change them. They are no sooner a matter 
of my consciousness than I approve or condemn them, 
as conformable or not conformable to the rule of duty : 
of course I approve or condemn myself, as having fulfilled 
or violated my obligations. This is the natural and in- 
evitable result of my constitution. I go upon the prin- 
ciple that I am a moral agent, or a being under law. I 
neither do nor can question this fact. It is made certain 
to me by my own consciousness ; and I could as soon 
doubt of my being as of my moral responsibility. This 
is a truth which I constantly assume, as often as I judge 
of my feelings or character. I recognize it in every moral 
distinction which I make. For to perceive that this ought 
to be, and that that ought not to be, is the very same thing 
as to perceive a law of duty, and, so far as I am con- 
cerned, a law which binds me. Ought, and ought not, 
carry in them the very notion of obligation, so that where 
one is perceived the other is perceived also. They are 
coextensive with and necessarily involve each other. 
They are, in fact, but one and the same thing, differently 
expressed. Consequently, I no sooner perceive the 
Divine character, than I perceive my obligation to love 
and venerate it. Love and veneration are affections of 
mind, which I instantly perceive to be duty, in opposi- 
tion to lukewarmness and indifference, and especially to 
hatred and contempt; or, which comes to the same thing, 
I perceive the moral difference between these two states 
of mind — that the one ought to be, and that the other 



ON THE WILL 



135 



ought not to be. But why ? Why ought the one to be, 
rather than the other ? The utilitarian would answer, 
Because it tends to happiness, my own or another's ; and 
the anti-utilitarian, Because it is in itself morally fit and 
proper — right in its own nature, apart from, and inde- 
pendent of, its consequences. But my opponent can 
assign no reason why it ought to be, without denying his 
own consciousness, and contradicting his own principles. 
Suppose he should say, I ought to love the Divine char- 
acter, because I see it to be right; and I see it to be 
right, because I have the power of bringing that character 
before me in its most interesting attitudes. Does he not, 
in the very assertion that he sees this to be right, pre- 
suppose such a knowledge of the Divine character as 
binds him to love ? How else could he see this to be 
right ? How does he know but that, upon a more careful 
consideration of what God is, he might find just cause to 
hate and oppose him ? The very fact that he sees it to 
be right to love, supposes that he knows enough of the 
character of God already to lay him under indispensable 
obligations to love ; and, of course, that his obligations 
to this duty are not suspended upon any supposed capa- 
bilities of turning his attention to the Divine character, 
if he shall choose so to do. He sees it to be right now, 
and cannot help but see it as often as the subject presents 
itself to his mind. But his seeing it to be right now, is 
nothing different from his perceiving it to be a matter of 
present obligation ; and this obligation is plainly felt, if 
felt at all, antecedent to the consideration of the sup- 
posed power of bringing the character of God before the 
mind by a deliberate act of the will. Every one intui- 
tively perceives (every one, I mean, to whom the char- 
acter of God has been iiuide known) that he is under 
strong and immediate obligation to love his Maker, 
without taking into view his power of calling up t he 
character of God, and making it the subject of his steady 



136 



ON THE WILL. 



contemplation. This character is no sooner seen, by 
whatever means, than the obligation to love and adore it 
is felt. Besides, what is the power here spoken of — the 
power to bring the Divine character, as an object of love, 
before the mind ? It has not been shown, nor can it be 
shown, that this power would reach and awaken the 
susceptibility necessary to the actual exercise of love. 
But waving this point for the present, let us suppose that 
love, true love to God, exists. Was it called into exist- 
ence by a previous act of volition ? This is not pretended, 
at least by a direct act : nor need it be supposed to be 
done by an indirect act ; for the character of God may 
be exhibited to me without any act of my will at all — I 
mean, of course, a determinate act. A man may pro- 
nounce in my ears, whether I will or not, what God is, 
and what his claims upon me are. Now, let us suppose 
that my affections, in these circumstances, are drawn 
forth in holy love to the Divine Being. Are these affec- 
tions virtuous ? Conscience says they are, though no 
deliberate act of my will was employed in bringing them 
into being, or in prolonging their existence — so long, at 
least, as the exhibition of the Divine character was 
made by the agency of another, and independent of my 
own voluntary effort. Conscience, we have said, ap- 
proves these affections thus awakened towards the infi- 
nitely blessed God. But upon what ground does it 
approve ? Not because the Divine character was brought 
into view by a deliberate act of my will, making my affec- 
tions to depend upon this act, and their virtue radically 
to consist in it, as my opponents contend; but simply 
and solely because, in the exercise of these affections, I 
did my duty. Give us but this plain position, and the 
question at issue is decided : you confess to me that I 
have acted as a moral agent, and have done my duty, in 
merely exercising my moral affections, independently 
of any deliberate act of my will. Moral agency, then, 



ON THE WILL. 



137 



certainly may and does exist anterior to deliberate voli- 
tion. Nor does it appear that we have overlooked an 
important fact in the case, as alleged by our opponents, 
in coming to this conclusion. 

Take another view of this subject. Say that there 
is no virtue in my affections of love to God, unless I 
resolve to cherish them, and so far only as I do thus 
resolve. I ask them, as before, why should I cherish 
them, if they contain nothing in themselves virtuous or 
praiseworthy ? I ask again, if they contain nothing in 
themselves praiseworthy antecedently to my cherishing 
them, how do they become so afterwards ? Does my 
purpose or resolution concerning them alter their nature 
or character in any degree ? Does it render them more 
pure, more disinterested, or more lovely in any respect ? 
Does it alter their source, their tendency, or results ? They 
are pleasing emotions in view of the Divine character, 
at first : what are they different, or can they be made to 
be, afterwards, by any act or purpose of mine ? It is 
plain they undergo no change, as to their essential qual- 
ities, by any efforts which I make in relation to them. 
True, it may be said, but I myself undergo a change ; I 
become virtuous, by my voluntary effort to cherish or 
prolong these affections. It is this approving and delib- 
erate act of my will which constitutes all the virtue 
there is in the case. But here, let it not be forgotten, 
that if I resolve to cherish these affections, I must have 
some motive for so doing, and what shall that motive be ? 
Suppose it were selfish ? that I determine to cherish 
these affections simply as a means of promoting my own 
happiness, without the least regard to the honor of God, 
or the welfare of his kingdom, will this render my pur- 
pose or determination good and acceptable in the sight 
of God, who requires me to act for his glory in all things I 
Nobody will pretend this. But say I resolve to cherish 
the supposed affections, because I regard them as right 



138 



ON THE WILL. 



and fit in themselves, and because of their manifest ten- 
dency to reflect honor upon God, and to advance the 
happiness of his kingdom — objects ever dear to my heart ? 
Then it is plain, there is a feeling back of the purpose, 
which moves the purpose, and gives it all the character 
it has, unless you will say that the principle of action, or 
the quo animo of a deliberate volition, has nothing to do 
with its character. 

Thus, in whatever light this subject be viewed, we 
seem necessarily, and at once, to be thrown back to this 
common-sense notion, that every man's character, as a 
moral being, is to be judged of by the state of his heart. 
If his feelings or affections be right, his intentions or 
purposes will be right, his words and actions right. But 
if his affections are wrong, all will be wrong, and wrong 
to the same extent that his affections are. This, if we 
mistake not, is the unbiased voice of mankind at large, 
who never trouble themselves with the speculations of 
philosophers, but are governed in all their moral judg- 
ments by those radical principles of their constitution 
which settle the great question of right and wrong ante- 
rior to all reasoning or speculation on the subject. They 
no sooner discover what a man's feelings are, what he 
loves, and what he hates, than their decision is formed 
as to his character ; they pronounce him good or bad, just 
as they perceive his moral feelings to accord with, or to 
be repugnant to, the rule of duty. To this view of the 
subject, President Edwards bears the most ample testi- 
mony — Part IV., Section 4th. 

" The idea which the common people, through all ages 
and nations, have of faultiness, I suppose to be plainly 
this : a person's being or doing wrong with his own will 
and pleasure ; containing these two things : 

"(1.) His doing wrong, when he does as he pleases. 

"(2.) His pleasures being wrong; or, in other words, 
perhaps more intelligibly expressing their notion, a per- 



ON THE WILL. ;[39 

son's having his heart wrong, and doing wrong from his 
heart. And this is the sum total of the matter. 

" The common people do not ascend up, in their reflec- 
tions and abstractions, to the metaphysical sources, rela- 
tions and dependencies of things, in order to form their 
notion of faultiness or blameworthiness. They do not 
wait till they have decided, by their refinings, what first 
determines the will ; whether it be determined by some- 
thing extrinsic or intrinsic ; whether volition determines 
volition, or whether the understanding determines the 
will ; whether there be any such thing as metaphysicians 
mean by contingence (if they have any meaning) ; whe- 
ther there be a sort of a strange, unaccountable sove- 
reignty in the will, in the exercise of which, by its own 
sovereign acts, it brings to pass all its own sovereign 
acts. They do not take any part of their notion of fault 
or blame from the resolution of such questions." Were 
this the case, the author remarks, " that nine hundred 
and ninety-nine out of a thousand would live and die, 
without having any such notion as that of fault entering 
into their heads;" and the same remarks, substantially, he 
makes with respect to that which is virtuous or praise- 
worthy. The whole matter, according to him, as it is 
viewed by the great mass of mankind, is that a man's 
moral character is to be estimated by the state of his 
heart. If his heart be inclined to virtuous deeds, they 
regard him as virtuous, and the more virtuous, the more 
strongly and steadily his heart is thus inclined. And so 
in regard to that which is morally evil ; the more a man's 
heart is inclined to it, and bent upon it, the more crimi- 
nal he is ; which goes upon the principle that his moral 
feelings give character to his deliberative acts and all 
the character they have. [See Note A, at the end.] 

There is a single point more to which I wish to draw 
your attention. By those who dissent from the principles 
of this lecture, it is contended that man would love the 



140 0N THE WILL. 

right objects, and in the right measure, did he but dis- 
tinctly and carefully consider them ; or that such is the 
constitution of the mind, that the appropriate affection 
would arise, were the object but clearly seen by the in- 
tellectual eye ; or, as some choose to express themselves, 
that such are the powers and susceptibilities of every 
moral agent, that he needs only to have the truth clearly 
presented, to feel towards it, and its various objects, 
those affections which the law of God demands. 

Allow me kindly to ask if this is not a great mistake ? 
With respect to holy minds, such a statement may be 
admitted as in a high degree probable. It would not be 
strange, if every object should strike them in its true 
light, as they can have no prejudice against it ; nor if the 
object when seen, should awaken the correspondent and 
appropriate feeling. But where is the proof, or even the 
probability that such would be the case with respect to 
unholy minds ? Is it not manifest, indeed, that the fact 
is otherwise ? How else could it be affirmed of the 
wicked, that " they hate the light, and will not come to 
the light, lest their deeds should be reproved ?" Why 
did the world hate the Saviour, and why did he predict 
that they would hate his followers ? " If ye were of the 
world, the world would love his own ; but because ye 
are not of the world, even as I am not of the world, 
therefore the world hateth you/' Will it be said that 
the world hated Christ and his disciples, because they 
misapprehended their character, or did not intellectually 
view them aright ? Then it was a false and imaginary 
character which they hated — something which did not 
belong to Christ and his disciples j and was it criminal 
to hate such a character ? Besides, our Lord lays the 
ground of opposition in a totally different fact. " If ye 
were of the world, the world would love his own," that 
is to say, if ye were like the world, the world would love 
you ; M but because ye are not of the world," or like the 



ON THE WILL. 



141 



world, " therefore the world hateth you." As if he had 
said, you possess a character different from, and opposite 
to theirs, and hence you may expect their hostility. But 
why ? let me ask, unless this different and opposite char- 
acter was distinctly discerned ? We cannot hate what 
we do not see. But Christ knew they would both see 
and hate, and that this hatred would spring from an op- 
position of moral character. The same thing he asserts, 
when he speaks of the opposition of the Jewish nation 
to himself. " If I had not come and spoken unto them, 
they had not had sin, but now they have no cloke for 
their sin. He that hateth me hateth my Father also. 
If I had not done among them the works, which none 
other man did, they had not had sin, but now they have 
both seen and hated, both me and my Father, But this 
cometh to pass, that the word might be fulfilled that is 
written in their law, they hated me without a cause" Did 
they not then see Jesus Christ, in his true character, as 
developed by what he did and what he taught ? If not, 
their hatred of him was no proof of their hatred of his 
Father ; for in his true character only, was there any 
likeness to his Father, and in this character only, did he 
represent his Father ; and besides, how could he say, 
" they have both seen and hated both me and my Father" 
if it was not him which they hated, but a false and mis- 
taken apprehension of him ? speculatively and intellectu- 
ally false, I mean ; for his transcendent moral excellence 
they did not see ; nor did any see it, whose eyes were 
not savingly enlightened from above. But this is wholly 
a different matter. To see the moral excellence of Christ, 
is to see his beauty ; and to see his beauty is nothing 
different from exercising love to him. Beauty is an 
emotion, as is admitted upon all hands; and what we 
call the perception of it, is not the mere exercise of the 
intellectual faculty, but is the joint operation of the in- 
tellect and the heart. It cannot be otherwise, if the 



142 



ON THE WILL. 



perception of beauty involve emotion. And surely there 
can be no difficulty in supposing that what is pleasing to 
one, is deformed and hateful to another; not because 
their intellectual views are different, but because their 
tastes, their dispositions, their hearts are different. This 
is seen with respect to a thousand objects in the ordinary 
occurrences of life ; and it is seen no less in the things 
of religion. The same truths which awaken the most 
delightful emotions in one mind, call forth the strongest 
feelings of disgust in another. The mere intellectual 
perception may be the same in both cases. To a great 
extent, it certainly cannot be otherwise ; but the feelings 
which it occasions are as wide from each other as the 
poles. With this plain fact before us, how can it be 
doubted, that the opposition of the Jews to the Saviour 
was the result, not so much of any misunderstanding of 
his doctrines or his spirit, as of a selfish and wicked 
heart. They are of the world — he was not of the world. 
They were under the reigning power of sin — he infi- 
nitely holy. This contrariety of character laid a founda- 
tion for a contrariety of feeling ; and nothing can be 
plainer, than that he constantly imputes their hostility to 
this obvious and decisive circumstance. His doctrines 
and his spirit offended them ; those very doctrines and 
that very spirit which endeared him to his followers. 
Hence, said he, " This is the condemnation that light 
has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather 
than light, because their deeds were evil. Every one 
that doeth evil, hateth the light." But what is the light ? 
what but the truth of God, brought to the world by the 
preaching of his Son ? It is this which wicked men hate, 
(according to the Saviour's testimony,) not because they 
do not see it, for they do see it, or it could not be an 
object of their hatred ; but because it stands opposed to 
worldliness, and requires a subjugation of their wicked 
lusts, on the pains of eternal death. This is the ground, 



ON THE WILL. 



143 



and the true ground, of their opposition to the truths of 
the Gospel ; their hearts are alienated from the life of 
God ; they love neither his character, nor his law, nor 
his government ; nor are they any better pleased with 
the character of his Son, or with the glorious system of 
truth and duty which he revealed. 

But, contrary to all analogy, it has been conjectured 
that the true reason of men's opposition to the truth is, 
their views are partial and distorted, or they are transient 
and unsteady. Would they but take a more compre- 
hensive view of things, and especially, would they dwell 
upon them with attention, they would soon find in the 
truth a subduing power, in breaking down the opposition 
of their hearts and transforming them into love. 

I call this conjecture, because I know of no facts in 
the wide range of experience which can justify it; and 
fully am I persuaded that there is nothing to authorize 
it in the Bible. 

What is the voice of experience ? Every one knows 
that we have certain dispositions, passions or affections, 
which are excited or drawn forth by a perception of 
their corresponding objects. When these objects are 
contemplated, we expect, as a matter of course, that the 
feelings to which they are adapted will arise ; and that 
these feelings will be strong and permanent, in propor- 
tion to the clearness and steadiness with which their 
several objects are viewed. The more distinctly and 
exclusively any object is seen, the more intense, other 
things being equal, will the excited feelings be. This 
is a matter of universal experience. Take a covetous 
man, counting over his wealth, or looking out with eagle 
eye for a chance to increase his fortune. Whoever sup- 
posed that a partial view of his darling object would 
awaken and stimulate his ruling passion, but that an en- 
tire and absorbing view would counteract and destroy 



144 



ON THE WILL. 



it ? Or an ambitious man, whose aspiring soul kindles 
into ardor with every glance at the object of his pursuit; 
who expects that his characteristic feeling will subside, 
not to say expire, when the distinction which he pants 
for comes fully into view, and the prospect of success is 
augmented ? In all such cases, we never doubt that the 
characteristic feeling or disposition will be called into 
exercise whenever its object shall be seen, and to the 
same degree in which it is seen ; and we should no more 
think of eradicating the disposition by giving a glowing 
description of its object, than of pouring oil on the fire to 
extinguish the flames. Can any reason, then, be given 
why the same thing should not hold true with respect to 
all our moral feelings, whether vicious or virtuous, espe- 
cially where they are known to have a settled and prev- 
alent character ? All admit, indeed, that the fact is so, 
with respect to our virtuous affections. Whatever ob- 
ject directly awakens them, it is believed, awakens them 
the more the more distinctly it is seen, and the more 
attentively it is considered. Why should it be other- 
wise with our sinful affections which are equally charac- 
teristic and permanent principles of action. 

There is no ground for this supposition, either in our 
experience or in the reason and nature of things. It is 
as true of them as of every other feeling of the mind, 
that they are called into exercise by the objects which 
excite them, and that they acquire a force and intensity, 
usually in the same proportion that the exciting objects 
are spread out before the mind. There is no exception 
to this, where the excited feeling is produced by specu- 
latively seeing the object as it is. Where it has been 
occasioned in whole or in part by a speculative error, a 
corrected view of the object may either soften the feel- 
ing or entirely remove it. In all other circumstances, it 
will increase with every increased view of its objective 



ON THE WILL. j/y- 

cause. This we take to be certain, if our experience 
can be relied upon, and all analogies in the case do not 
utterly fail. 

But some may suppose that our analogies do fail, and 
do not represent the case as it is. For though the cov- 
etous man is allured by the objects of his covetousness, 
and the ambitious man by the objects of his ambition, 
and even the virtuous man by the objects of his love ; 
still, in all these cases an object is supposed, which is 
simply adapted to awaken the correspondent feeling, 
without anything to counteract it. But not so with 
respect to the truths of religion, which occasionally and 
in some aspects awaken the hostility of the sinner. Here 
many things are addressed to his conscience, his reason 
and his self-love, which he naturally approves, and which 
are calculated to abate his enmity and draw forth his 
friendship ; and even when his hatred is felt, it is not so 
much towards the truth itself, or because it is truth 
abstractly considered, as because it crosses his path and 
threatens him with ruin. What if it be so ? It affords 
no escape from the fact that there is something in the 
truths of religion, which awakens the hostility of the 
sinner and renders him the decided enemy of God. It 
matters not how much there is of a different character, 
so long as there is that which is repugnant to the sinner's 
heart, and which he never can behold without the feel- 
ing of predominant dislike. This surely cannot be de- 
nied without denying the voice of inspiration, which de- 
clares " that the carnal mind is enmity against God, not 
subject to his law, neither indeed can be." If this does not 
assure us that there is a natural and stated contrariety be- 
tween the sinner's heart and the holy character of God, it is 
difficult to say what could do it. J [<>\\ , I hen, can this char- 
acter be seen by the sinner without exciting his aversion ? 
The just man, we are told, is an abomination to the un- 
just ; and can it be thought strange that a God of infinite 
10 



146 0N THE will. 

holiness, with power and disposition to punish the work- 
ers of iniquity, should be an object of hatred to the 
wicked ? We have seen already that the world hated 
Christ and his disciples — not because they were deceived 
as to their doctrine or spirit, but because they were un- 
like them in the temper of their hearts. And for the 
same reason is the carnal mind at enmity with God and 
his law. God is holy, and his law holy ; but the car- 
nal mind is sold under sin, and therefore opposed to 
God and his law. If it be not so, why was it, " That 
when men knew God, they glorified him not as God, but 
became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish 
hearts were darkened ?" Why, in every age, have they 
been disposed " to say unto God, depart from us, for we 
desire not the knowledge of thy ways V s Can this be 
accounted for on any other supposition than that they 
have always found that, in the true character of God, 
which was exceedingly unwelcome to their hearts, and 
which called forth their decided opposition ? Is it, then, 
an unwarrantable inference, that the more they see of 
the Divine character, while under the dominion of sin, 
the more their hearts will be inflamed against it ? This 
inimical feeling is with them a permanent characteristic, 
directed against the Divine character as a whole ; and it 
seems impossible that it should not be excited in the 
same proportion as the exciting object comes clearly 
into view. Thousands of individuals in every age, 
can bear witness that such has been their experience, 
when under conviction by the law, and antecedent to 
the renovation of their hearts. Was it not so with 
Edwards and Brainerd, and most of those the history of 
whose conversion we know ? But why resort to the 
testimony of men, since the testimony of God is greater ? 
Paul, surely, did not find his heart less opposed to the 
Divine law, the more clearly he saw the nature and 
extent of its demands. "I was alive," saith he, " with- 



ON THE WILL. 



147 



out the law once ; but when the commandment came, 
sin revived, and I died." That is, as I understand him, 
while he was comparatively ignorant of the law, he felt 
self-satisfied — full of his own imaginary goodness, and 
full of the expectation of life from his own righteousness. 
But when the commandment came with a new and 
Divine power, and he saw its spirituality and extent 
reaching to the thoughts and intents of the heart, " sin 
revived, and he died." "The commandment, which 
was ordained to life, he found to be unto death," both as 
it discovered to him the enormity of his guilt, which 
exposed him to death, and as it stirred up his wicked 
heart to rebel, and to rebel the more, the more it poured 
its sacred light into his bosom. "For sin," says he, 
" taking occasion by the commandment, wrought in me 
all manner of concupiscence," it " deceived me, and there- 
by slew me." Before the commandment came, sin 
was dead — comparatively dead ; but the commandment, 
on coming, gave it power. Its latent principles awoke 
and started into fresh and unwonted vigor. Not that 
the law was in fault ; for " the law is holy, and the com- 
mandment holy, just and good ; but sin, that it might ap- 
pear sin, working death in me by that which is good — 
that sin by the commandment might become (not simply 
appear) exceeding sinful." It is plain that the Apostle 
is here speaking, not merely nor chiefly of the know- 
ledge of sin, which was made manifest by the coming of 
the commandment, but of the power of sin as a princi- 
ple of action — a principle which was called into vigorous 
exercise by a clearer perception of the spirituality and 
extent of the Divine law. And hence he accounts for 
this effect by stating "that the law is spiritual, but he, 
carnal, sold under sin." Let philosophy, then, contend for 
what she may, those who bow to the authority of the 
Bible can be at no loss, we should imagine, as to what 
they are to believe on the point under discussion. This 



148 0N THE WILL - 

single statement of the Apostle's experience is, in our 
judgment, no equivocal proof that mere light let into the 
understanding, while the heart is unsanctified, is so far 
from awakening right affections, that it does but irri- 
tate the carnal mind, and provoke it to more decided 
enmity. 

We cannot yield, therefore, to the opinion of our 
opponents, that were sinners to turn their attention to 
the right objects, and seriously meditate upon them, the 
appropriate and required affections would arise, as a 
matter of course, and agreeably to a law of their con- 
stitution. Such a sentiment appears to us to be alike at 
war with experience, and with the revealed truth of 
God. But grant, for a moment, that it were so ; what 
does it avail towards showing that right and wrong, good 
and evil, lie not in the moral affections, but in the delib- 
erate acts of the will ? Say that sinners will not turn 
their attention to God, and Divine things — and therefore 
are not rightly affected towards them — where lies their 
guilt ? Not in the deliberate act of refusing to attend — 
apart from the feelings which led to the refusal — but in 
the state of their moral affections — in the obliquity of 
their hearts. They do not love God, and therefore do 
not desire the knowledge of his ways. They give a 
preference to other objects. This is the core of the 
difficulty, and the essence of their guilt — as every man's 
conscience instinctively testifies. So it must be, if the 
motive crown the action, and if actions derive their 
qualities from principles. 

We come back, therefore, to the same conclusion as 
before, that strictly speaking both virtue and vice are 
found in the heart — that is, in those dispositions, choices 
and feelings which lie at the bottom of every delib- 
erate act of the will. We call the deliberate act 
virtuous or vicious, as the case may be — and so we do 
the external action which proceeds from it — but we al- 



ON THE WILL. 



149 



ways have reference to the motive or principle which gave 
birth to the act, and which occasioned it to be as it is, 
and not otherwise. Show us the motive or feeling which 
has influenced or governed the mind, in any particular 
case, and we can show you the character of the act, or, 
to speak more correctly, the character of the actor, for in 
this very motive or feeling his blame or praise worthiness 
lies. Nor need this view of the subject create any diffi- 
culty on the score of moral agency and accountability. 
Our affections are as much our exercises, and the exer- 
cises of our will, as our deliberate choices or volitions, 
and altogether as much the immediate and proper sub- 
ject of command. Nay, a regard to them is had in every 
command which God gives, while his law is summed up 
in two great precepts, immediately addressed to our 
hearts. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy 
heart, soul, mind and strength, and thy neighbor as thy- 
self." Such is the frame and constitution of our minds, 
that we immediately recognize the fitness of this com- 
mand the moment we perceive its import. We stop not 
to inquire whether there be any process, and if so, what 
it is, which is necessary to bring into exercise the re- 
quired affections. We perceive at once that we ought 
to have them, and to have them without delay ; and con- 
science condemns us for the slightest failure. The ope- 
rations of our minds upon this subject are exceedingly 
simple ; we no sooner know what the demand of the law 
is, than we feel ourselves instantly bound to obey, and 
guilty if we do not obey. " He that knoweth to do good, 
and doth it not, to him it is sin," says the Apostle. But to 
love God, and our neighbor is, doubtless, one of the forms 
of doing good, that is, of doing right, as the expression 
maybe understood. And no other facts or circumstances 
need to be known, than that thus to love is our duty, to 
bring us under immediate obligation to obey. So we 
reason and judge on every other subject of obligation. 



150 



ON THE WILL. 



Were we to see a man who felt no interest in the wel- 
fare of his country, but was willing to sacrifice its hap- 
piness to the objects of his private ambition, we should 
instantly condemn him for this state of mind. Could he 
see nothing to attract him in the virtuous deeds and 
sacrifices of a Washington, we should cry out upon him 
as a wretch. Because we feel that he ought to love and 
venerate the father of his country, and with a warmth 
and sincerity correspondent to his dignity and worth. 
Not to do this would, in our estimation, be infamy. In 
all such cases we connect the obligation with the simple 
fact of knowing what is justly expected and required. 

But some may be ready to ask, how can I be respon- 
sible for my affections, unless I can control them, directly 
or indirectly, by some previous act of my will 1 and I ask 
in return, how can I be responsible for such previous act 
of my will, unless I can control that, by some other pre- 
vious act ? Will it be said that I chose to have that act 
of my will as it was, and not otherwise, and therefore I 
am responsible for it ? Then I chose to choose it seems — 
and this renders my choosing blame, or praise worthy. 
But nobody, at this day, will resort to such an absurdity. 
The truth is, that in every exercise of the will, the agent 
acts freely ; and his act is to be judged of by its own 
nature. If it be a deliberate act, we decide upon its 
character, so far as it has any, by the principle or motive 
which governed it. If it be an immanent act, it is, never- 
theless, a free act, arising spontaneously in view of its 
object ; and if it be of a moral character, this character is 
to be determined by comparing it with the law of duty. 
If it be such as the law requires, it is good and praise- 
worthy ; and if it be otherwise, it is evil. It is simply 
the nature of the exercise, which we look at ; and this 
we judge of, by the exercise being conformed, or not 
conformed, to the law ; nor does it make any difference, 
whether the law be that which is written upon the 



ON THE WILL. 



151 



heart, by the light of nature, or whether it be revealed. 
The moment we perceive a law, which we recognize 
as a law of duty, we perceive ourselves to be bound by 
it (for these perceptions properly involve each other): 
of course we cannot fail to approve or condemn our- 
selves, as we yield, or do not yield, to the demands of 
the law. This is the natural result of our constitution ; 
and to use President Edward's language, " is the sum 
total of the matter." We never go about to inquire 
what is the cause of our moral affections being as they 
are, or whether they have any cause, aside from our own 
powers and susceptibilities, and the objects which act 
upon them. We know that these affections are our 
exercises, and not another's — the development of our 
own powers. In other words, we perceive that it is we 
ourselves, that love or hate, hope or fear, as the case may 
be, and that these exercises are morally good, or morally 
evil, as they correspond with, or violate the Divine law. 
This is all we perceive, or are conscious of, and if we 
suppose something farther, we do but deceive ourselves, 
by traveling into the region of imagination or conjecture. 
But I hear it asked, do not men naturally suppose, 
when they have had wrong feelings or emotions, that 
they might have had other, and different feelings, if they 
had been so disposed, or if they had pleased ? and is it 
not upon this ground that they condemn themselves for 
the feelings which they had ? That men sometimes have 
confused thoughts upon this subject, there is no doubt ; 
but that they have had such thoughts as the inquirer 
supposes, we can by no means concede — unless they 
greatly mistake the facts in the case. There is an ab- 
surdity on the very face of the supposition, that they 
might have had different feelings or emotions, if they 
had been so disposed, for what is it to be so disposed, but 
to have these other and different feelings themselves ? 



152 ON THE WILL. 

which is as much as to say that they might have had 
different feelings, if they had had different feelings. Nor 
does the supposition that they might have had different 
feelings if they had pleased, afford a sense, less fraught 
with error or absurdity. It implies that they might have 
had other feelings and emotions, if they had desired, or 
chosen them. But feelings or emotions never arise in 
consequence of being desired or chosen, but spontane- 
ously, in view of their appropriate objects ; and besides, 
if they were desired or chosen, they were desired or 
chosen for some end ; and what is that end ? If you say 
it was their own agreeableness or pleasingness to the 
mind— then they were possessed already, and did not 
arise in consequence of being chosen. If you say it was 
for some other end, the choice would be unavailing, as 
it neither involves them nor produces them. Produce 
them, it cannot, according to any law of mind known or 
admitted by any respectable writer on this subject. The 
simple matter is, when men have wrong feelings, and 
they are conscious of the wrong, they judge of it by the 
nature of these feelings as compared with the rule of 
duty. Come how they will, come whence they will, 
they intuitively perceive them to be wrong — wrong in 
themselves apart from the circumstances which preceded 
or attended them. True it is, other things may be per- 
ceived at the same time. We may perceive that one 
wrong feeling has indirectly contributed to another, or 
that the absence of right feelings has been the occasion 
of wrong ones ; still it is manifest that both the right and 
the wrong can be measured and determined only by the 
acknowledged rule of duty. The feeling must be com- 
pared with the rule ; and this done, all is done which is 
necessary to show its agreement, or disagreement, with 
the rule, and to fix in the mind an unwavering convic- 
tion of its good or ill desert. The perception of the rule 



ON THE WILL 



153 



is a perception of obligation ; and the perception of 
conformity, or non-conformity, is a perception of having 
done good or evil. 

[Note A.] But some may suppose that this writer makes moral evil to consist 
in two things, and not in one ; namely, in a man's doing wrong, when he does as 
he pleases, and his pleasure's being wrong; or, in other words, in having his heart 
wrong, and doing wrong from his heart : and by the same rule, that virtue must 
consist in two things — in a man's having his heart right, and doing right from his 
heart. He admits, indeed, that such are the common notions of mankind, who do 
not always carefully separate their conceptions on this subject. There are certain 
actions, overt actions, which they esteem right or wrong, but not as separate from 
the deliberate choice of the mind from which they proceeded. These actions must 
be voluntary in their judgment, or they would be neither blame nor praise worthy : 
of course, their moral character, so far as they have any, must be derived 
from the fact that they were deliberately chosen ; and when they come to inquire 
into the character of this choice, which they pronounce either good or bad, they 
take into view the principle or motive from which it originates. It is a good 
choice, or a bad choice, as it was moved or excited by a good or bad feeling. This 
alone marks its intent or design ; and on this the mind fixes as that which is es- 
sential to its moral character. If the intent be good, the choice was good ; if the 
intent be evil, the choice was evil. And though the vulgar do not ordinarily 
separate their conceptions in this manner, yet they show, by their language, in 
a thousand forms, that they have such conceptions ; and that they trace all moral 
good or evil up to the heart, or the state of the affections; and that, in their 
judgment, there is neither virtue nor vice apart from these. That this was the 
sentiment of Edwards himself, there can be no doubt, since he repeatedly inti- 
mates that it is the disposition of the man which gives character to the man ; and 
since it is one of his cardinal points, " that principles do not derive their goodness 
from actions, but actions from principles," while he expressly declares that a good 
choice is no farther good than the disposition from which it flows. 



LECTURE IY 



ON CREATION 



In our examination of the Divine decrees, we have seen 
that they are necessarily universal, reaching alike to all 
beings and events, and through all time; that in the 
order of nature, they precede whatsoever comes to pass 
through the agency of God, whether that agency be 
exerted either more immediately or remotely. The works 
of God are, of course, the development of his decrees, 
and may be comprehended under two grand divisions — 
the works of creation, and the works of providence. 
Nothing which God does, or in any way causes to be 
done, but may be included under one or the other 
of these divisions. 

As to the work of creation, it has been denned, " God's 
making all things of nothing, by the word of his power, 
in the space of six days, and all very good." No objec- 
tion can be taken to this definition, if it is intended to 
comprehend the whole of God's work, in giving birth to 
materials, as well as in giving form, for it is manifest 
that animals and vegetables were created from matter 
already in existence. 

The original word vra to create, as well as its kindred 
forms, is used with considerable latitude in the Scrip- 
tures, as may be seen by referring to Lexicographers. 



ON CREATION. 



155 



According to Parkhurst, this word denotes the produc- 
tion of either substance ox form — the creation, or accretion 
of substance or matter. 

(1.) He gives it the sense of creating, or producing 
into being, Genesis, i. 1, where it is said, " In the begin- 
ning, God created the heavens and the earth." This 
cannot relate to form, he remarks, because it follows in 
the next verse, that the earth was without form, or in hose 
atoms. He assigns to it the same meaning in the twenty- 
seventh verse, where man is said to be made in the 
image of God, because this had respect to the spiritual 
and immortal part of man. 

(2.) He gives it the sense of forming by an accretion 
or concretion of matter, Genesis, i. 21, where God is 
said to create the monsters of the deep. 

(3.) A third sense which he ascribes to it, is to perform 
somewhat that is wonderful, or extraordinary — to make, 
as it were, a new creation ; Numbers, xvi. 30 : " But if 
God create a creation " — that is, " if he shall work an 
unprecedented miracle." * * * See also, Exodus, 
xxxiv. 10, and Jeremiah, xxxi. 22. 

(4.) He gives this word the sense, also, of renewing, or 
making anew; of preparing and adorning, which shows 
that the sacred writers have used it with considerable 
variety of meaning. 

Gesenius gives much the same account as to the import 
of this word. Its first sense, he remarks, is to hew, or 
hew out ; and that in some of its forms, it is used to 
signify being bom. He allows it the sense of smooth, and 
to make smooth, but more commonly to form, or to make, 
though he says nothing as to the mode of forming, 
whether with, or without, pre-existing materials. 

Pictet has endeavored to show that there are only 
two senses in which the word create can be understood 
strictly and properly; the one, when it describes that 
work of God by which he drew something from nothing, 



156 



ON CREATION. 



and the other, when it marks that operation by which God 
makes a thing different from what it was before— and 
where there was no previous disposition to the change. 

It is a marvelous thing, he remarks, that a small nut 
should produce a great tree — nevertheless, because the 
nut contains the semen or germ of the tree, we do not 
call this a creation, but a generation. But to make a 
living man from a dead stone, would be a creation. It is a 
thing which surpasses the powers of nature, and there is 
none but God, who could, of stones, raise up children to 
Abraham. In the last sense, he supposes it is said that 
God created man of the dust of the earth, and that he 
formed Eve from one of Adam's ribs. For neither the dust 
nor the rib was naturally capable of receiving the form 
which God subsequently gave. There was here no germ, 
no previous disposition to the change which was produced ; 
no such preparation as nature demands in her subjects, 
when she would exhibit them in a new form. Whence 
it would appear, that no less power is required in this 
second kind of creation, than in the first ; and that both 
demand a power which is infinite." 

Such works we cheerfully concede, are properly de- 
nominated a creation, and clearly indicate a power no 
less than infinite. But we see no reason for limiting 
the word create, or creation, to such extraordinary opera- 
tions. Most certainly, neither in the Scriptures, nor in 
the customary forms of speech, is the term thus limited. 
Not unfrequently is it used by the sacred writers to 
express God's works of providence, where no extraor- 
dinary change is produced, but only such modification, 
or disposition of things, as occur in a regular train of his 
operations. At the same time, it is not to be doubted, 
that it is sometimes used to signify the production of 
something out of nothing, or giving existence where 
previously there was none. It has this meaning, most 
obviously, when Moses says, "In the beginning God 



ON CREATION. ^57 

created the heavens and the earth, and the earth was 
without form, and void." (Genesis, i. 1.) Here we are 
directed not only to the cause, but to the beginning of 
things ; not to that state which they afterwards assumed 
under the forming hand of their Creator, when the work 
was complete, but to the bringing into existence the first 
principles of things — the materials, so to speak, of which 
the several forms of organized being were fashioned by 
the Almighty. 

Other passages of Scripture point us to the same fact, 
no less obviously, though not perhaps with the same 
clearness and precision. When St. John says, " In the 
beginning was the word, or the \oyog ; the word was 
with God, and the word was God. All things were 
made by him, and without him was not anything made 
that was made," he plainly carries us up to the same 
high original of created existence, as Moses had done 
before him. The \tyos who w s in the beginning with 
God, is spoken of as the immediate and efficient cause of 
all things that were made, or began to be. Paul, also, 
in distinctly ascribing to Christ the creation of all things 
in heaven and earth, whether they be visible, or invisi- 
ble, clearly indicates a production from nothing. He 
declares, moreover, " that Christ was before all things, 
and that by him all things consist." 

To understand this passage with reference to the mere 
organization of things, would not only be an unreasonable 
limitation of the Apostle's meaning, but would suppose a 
sense which could have no application to the invisible 
part of Christ's workmanship, to wit, his creation of 
angels, as is commonly understood by thrones, dominions, 
principalities and powers. Besides, how could Christ 
be before all things, if some things existed antecedent to 
his creative act, and existed as the materials upon which 
his power was exerted ? 

That the Apostle intended to speak of a creation from 



158 ON CREATION. 

non-entity is the more probable, from the language which 
he holds upon this subject in the 11th of Hebrews. 
" Through faith," says he, " we understand that the 
worlds were framed by the word of God : so that 
things which are seen, were not made of things which 
do appear." What then were they made of ? (it might 
naturally be demanded.) Not of pre-existent matter : 
for that belongs to things which do appear. His lan- 
guage naturally imports that visible things were not made 
of visible things, or material things of things which are 
material ; but arose into existence at the sovereign com- 
mand of God, and arose out of nothing. The Word of 
God is given as the only source of the mighty fabric of 
the universe. In this, the Apostle evidently opposed 
himself to the philosophers of that period, who held 
either that the world was eternal, or was formed out of 
materials which had no beginning ; and his opposition 
consists not only in stating the fact to be different from 
what they had supposed — but the way in which we 
come to the knowledge of that fact. " By faith," saith 
he, " we understand that the worlds were made by the 
word of God." Reason might trace the operation of the 
Divine hand in the visible frame of the universe ; but 
reason alone would never rise to the sublime notion that 
God spake the universe into existence from nothing. 
This is too mighty an idea for the human mind to excogi- 
tate, by its own unassisted powers. Even 1 now that the 
fact is revealed, there is nothing which more astonishes 
us, or baffles our conceptions, the moment we attempt to 
meditate upon it. That something should be produced 
from nothing — that the universe of creatures, whether 
they be visible or invisible, should rise up at the call of 
the Almighty, and stand forth in all their majesty and 
glory, is not only the miracle of miracles, but the greatest 
of all mysteries. Still, this is no reason why we should 
doubt the fact. The Bible asserts it, and reason legiti- 



ON CREATION. 



159 



mately exercised, coincides with the Bible. As to the 
modus operandi, it plainly lies beyond the reach of our 
faculties ; but this is true, also, with respect to causation 
universally : we see the changes that are produced, and 
the order in which they occur ; but we know not how 
they are produced. A total darkness here rests upon all 
the works of God. In the fact of creation, we are apt 
to stumble at the thought, that it should arise out of 
nothing ; and yet, from the necessity of the case, we 
know not how it could be otherwise. What materials 
were there, out of which to form the universe, till the 
Almighty had created them to his hand ? Matter, surely, 
could not be eternal, unless we allow it a necessary 
existence, contrary to all just reasoning from its known 
qualities and attributes. And as to the spirit, though 
eternal, as it exists in the Deity, yet since it would be 
absurd to suppose that his all-perfect Being is capable of 
division, multiplication or change, we are left to con- 
clude that^other spirits, if they exist, must exist by cre- 
ation, no less than matter, and by creation, as absolutely 
from nothing. To suppose otherwise, would be to sup- 
pose some change in the substance of the Deity, or at 
least, a division of that substance, since out of it, accord- 
ing to this hypothesis, other spirits were formed. 

Allowing then, that God has created something out of 
nothing, still it is important to inquire what that some- 
thing is. We are in the habit of considering it as being 
or substance, and either matter or mind. But what evi- 
dence of this ? May it not be some property or attribute, 
or merely an assemblage of these ? It is plain it must 
be something distinct from God, or it could not be any- 
thing created, unless creation consists in a mere modifi- 
cation of Deity. Hence philosophers and divines who 
have admitted a creation at all — I mean a creation from 
nothing — have, with one voice, allowed it to be some- 
thing ad extra in relation to God ; something without or 



IQQ ON CREATION. 

aside from him ; not in its origin, but in its result ; some- 
thing which is not God, neither his substance, nor his 
attributes, nor an exercise of these; but the fruit or effect 
of his creative energy. 

But if that which is created be something distinct from 
God, it cannot be a mere property or attribute, unless we 
can suppose a property without a subject, or an attribute 
which is the attribute of nothing. Nor can it be a mere 
assemblage of attributes or properties ; for the absurdity 
of a property without a subject, or an attribute without 
a substance to which it belongs, is in no degree lessened 
by supposing an assemblage of these, or many instead 
of one. 

We are aware, indeed, that a few modern philosophers 
have adopted a different sentiment, and have denned 
matter to be nothing but an assemblage of properties or 
qualities, and mind only a union of perceptions, or a 
series of exercises, which has neither principle nor found- 
ation, except the immediate agency of God. In short, 
that neither matter nor mind is anything distinct from its 
properties ; and that these are nothing but God's action ; 
and hence, all the known properties of bodies, if not of 
mind, are regarded as the steady laws of Divine opera- 
tion. We cannot think that such a doctrine will ever 
become universal, as it seems to stand opposed to some 
of the radical principles of our constitution. Men will 
not soon be reasoned out of a conviction of their personal 
identity, nor out of their belief in an external world. We 
take it to be a principle as certain as any of the axioms 
on which our reasonings are grounded, that every property 
has a subject to which it belongs ; and that we can no more 
avoid this reference in our thoughts, however ignorant 
we may be of the nature of the subject, than we can 
avoid the conclusion, that every act implies an agent, 
whose act it is, and every feeling and perception, some 
being who feels and perceives. This is surely the natural 



ON CREATION. IQ\ 

train of our thoughts, if it be not one of their unchange- 
able laws ; and under its influence it is, that Christian 
philosophers and divines, of every age, have, with few 
exceptions, adopted the opinion, that creation is a work, 
or something done, and not a mere energy ; and that that 
which is created is properly a being or substance, and 
is either matter or mind. This is the view which 
Paul appeared to take of the subject, when he said, 
" Every house is builded by some man, but he that built 
all things is God." He speaks of some things being done, 
not merely as a change or an event which should leave 
no trace of its existence behind, but as a work which 
stands forth as the mighty monument of the power which 
accomplished it. 

Such, as it appears to us, is the plain, common-sense 
notion of the case, as the principles of all languages 
testify, and as the Word of God abundantly confirms. 
" God spake, and it was done ; he commanded, and it 
stood fast." But what stood fast ? unless it were the work 
of his own hands, something which had a positive and 
continued existence ? He made heaven, earth, air, sea, 
and all that is therein, everything after its kind, and every 
living thing with power to propagate its kind ; and the 
language employed in this statement, can obviously con- 
vey to the common mind no other idea, than that these 
were so many separate existences, brought into being by 
the Almighty, with their varied attributes, qualities and 
powers. But philosophers are not to be taken by the 
snare which catches the vulgar. They have a much 
deeper insight into things. The Word of God was not 
designed to instruct in the principles of a deep and recon- 
dite philosophy ; but with higher and more spiritual 
views, accommodates its statements to the notions and 
apprehensions of the unlettered multitude. Though it 
speak, therefore, of God, inert, angels, devils, things visible 
and things invisible, as having a distinct and positive ex- 
11 



162 



ON CREATION. 



istence, accompanied with various qualities and attributes, 
it is no argument that there is in reality any such exist- 
ence, separate from attributes, properties, qualities and 
powers. These, after all, may be the sum of created 
being, if not the sum of uncreated being. 

Let us resort, then, to principles independent of the 
Bible, and try the question on the ground of human rea- 
son. And here the first inquiry is, whether every man, 
be he philosopher or otherwise, does not go upon the 
principle, that he has a distinct individual existence; or 
that he is a person in the ordinary sense of the term, pos- 
sessed of certain attributes and powers ? and not that he 
is a series of acts, or an assemblage of attributes ? I am 
inclined to think, if he will allow himself to answer, all 
prejudice and system apart, that he will frankly confess 
that he, cannot persuade himself that he is not himself, al- 
though this self appears to be a strange indefinable 
thing. In other words, that he is conscious of a distinct 
personality, or, if you like the phrase better, that he 
believes himself to be a person, having the realities and pro- 
perties of being, altogether as truly, though not as inde- 
pendently, as God who created him. This person he 
always denotes by the term I — a person sufficiently dear 
to him, and whose opinions and interests he is never 
backward to cherish. And as he thus firmly believed 
in his own identity — so he has substantially the same 
belief concerning his fellow-men. Hence he constantly 
speaks of them, whatever may be his philosophy, as 
having a real, positive existence, to which he attributes 
involuntarily certain properties and powers. He can no 
more divest himself of the idea that they are persons, 
or beings, in the strict sense of the terms, and not mere 
qualities, properties, or events — than he can divest him- 
self of the belief that they have any existence at all. 
He may deny their distinct individuality, or profess his 
doubts concerning it ; but every moment he acts upon 



ON CREATION. 



163 



the belief that they are persons, having personal proper- 
ties, or powers. There is not a man that lives, who does 
not form all his plans, and shape his whole course of 
action under the influence of this inwrought and un- 
changeable belief. 

The same remarks apply with undiminished force to 
the belief of an external world in general. Such a be- 
lief all men have — a belief in things without, as having 
a positive and continued existence, in distinction from 
their own ideas and impressions, and no less in distinc- 
tion from mere properties and powers. Nor is this belief 
like that which is sometimes occasioned by the illusion 
of our senses, which may be corrected by more careful 
inquiry. It goes deep into the very constitution of the 
mind, and can neither be shaken off nor corrected by 
all the art and ingenuity of philosophical investigation. 
And well for us is it that it cannot ; for the preservation 
of our being depends upon it, and perhaps, too, all our 
moral distinctions and our consequent accountability. 
Certainly, it would seem that we could not discriminate 
between man and man, nor pass any judgment upon 
ourselves, without presupposing our belief in personal 
identity — or, which is the same thing, in the personal 
existence of a being, aside from his character or his 
qualities. And yet what identity can there be, in mind 
at least, if the subject and its properties, or mind and its 
operations, be not distinct ? Bishop Berkeley himself 
was well aware of this ; and therefore, though he denied 
the existence of matter, and even the possibility of it, 
contended for the existence of mind, as a substance dis- 
tinct from its qualities, powers, or operations. The same 
is the case with Kirwan, the zealous and able defender 
of Berkeley. He insists that the mind, though known 
only by its properties and powers, is nevertheless a being 
or substance distinct from its phenomena, and introduces 
Mr. Merian, one of the ablest metaphysicians of his age, 



|54 0N CREATION. 

as replying to Mr. Hume in the following manner. [The 
extract is taken from the Memoirs of Berlin for 1793.] 
" According to Mr. Hume," says this able writer, " we 
are nothing but an aggregate of phenomena. Now I ask 
if a phenomenon can exist without being perceived ? If 
not, I ask who perceives it ? To this question there are 
but three possible answers : either it is perceived by 
itself, or by some other phenomenon, or by something 
that is not a phenomenon. Now, a phenomenon per- 
ceiving itself, would be strange indeed : sounds hearing 
themselves, smells smelling themselves, &c. Besides, 
in this case there could be no comparison of the phe- 
nomena, nor consequently any judgment founded on 
such comparison. Secondly, to say that phenomena can 
perceive other phenomena is still, if possible, more ab- 
surd ; for instance, smells hearing sounds, sounds seeing 
colors. * * * Therefore, thirdly, there must be a sub- 
ject or substratum of these perceptions, of which they 
are modifications. Moreover, sensations of one sort are 
often compared with sensations of another sort, as those 
of sight with those of hearing. Now, can vision judge of 
hearing ? or colors judge of sounds ? May we not have 
two simultaneous sensations contrary to each other ? 
May we not feel extreme heat in one hand, and extreme 
cold in the other ? Can then two contrary sensations 
coexist without any subject ? But it were idle to pursue 
this matter farther." 

I own this argument strikes me powerfully ; and if it 
stood alone, it would convince me that a subject and its 
properties are distinct things, and that the latter neces- 
sarily presuppose the former. But the argument does 
not stand alone. We have a deep-seated belief, I have 
already remarked, in our own personal existence, and in 
that of others, aside from our qualities, actions, or powers — 
a belief which prevails with undiminished strength, at 
all times and places, while reason itself is prolonged. 



ON CREATION. 



165 



But whence the origin of this belief? Can it rationally 
be ascribed to anything but the forming hand of our 
Creator, who has deeply engraven it upon the inmost 
folds of the mind ? Has he laid us under a necessity, 
then, of believing what is not true ? or shall we admit 
the correctness of these primary and immovable impres- 
sions ? To me it appears dangerous to call in question 
such original and invariable dictates of the human mind ; 
for if we may be wrong here, who knows that we are 
right anywhere ? What security can we have for virtue ? 
or to what tribunal shall we make our appeal even for 
its very existence ? How can we be certain that there 
is a God ? We infer his being from his works, because 
we believe that they are not self-existent, and could not 
come into being without a cause ; but this sentiment, 
that nothing can exist without a cause, is neither more 
original, more uniform, nor more stable, than the belief 
we have in our own personal existence, as the subject 
of properties, qualities and powers. Call this belief an 
illusion, and who shall confirm us in the correctness of 
the other sentiment ? But there is little danger, after 
all. Nature is true to her purpose ; and men, though 
they may profess their scepticism, will continue to be- 
lieve in their own existence, and in an external world. 
They will think that mind is something, and matter 
something ; and though each is known only by its pro- 
perties, still they cannot fail to believe that both exist, as 
the subject of the properties which they severally display. 



LECTURE Y. 



ON CREATION 



God, says an eloquent writer, is a sun, whose bright- 
ness our eyes cannot behold ; whose transcendent light 
blinds us, so that we cannot steadfastly contemplate it, 
without being dazzled and confounded. But this sun 
presents itself to us in a mirror ; this mirror is the uni- 
verse, where God has exhibited to us an admirable por- 
trait of his perfections. And to this Paul alludes, 
when he says, " that the invisible things of God, even 
his eternal power and majesty, are clearly seen by the 
things that are made." 

In our remarks, previously submitted, on the subject of 
Creation, we endeavored to make it appear that that 
which was created, was something distinct from God, and 
was neither his substance nor his attributes, nor an 
exercise of these ; but something ad extra in relation to 
him — a work or creature of God. That if this some- 
thing was distinct from God, it could not be a mere 
property or attribute, nor an assemblage of these, but a 
being or substance of which properties and attributes 
could be affirmed. To suppose an attribute without a 
substance, or a property without a subject, we consid- 
ered as involving the same kind of absurdity as to sup- 
pose an act without an agent, or a feeling or perception 
without some being that feels or perceives. 



ON CREATION. lffl 

We attempted to confirm our views, not only by a 
reference to the common principles of all languages, and 
to the forms of speech employed in the Bible, but by an 
argument drawn from the belief which every man has 
in his own personal identity, and in that of his fellow- 
men — a belief which compels him to admit that he is a 
person, or being, the subject of properties, qualities or 
powers. And we attempted to show, farther, that this 
primary and deep-seated belief was a law of our consti- 
tution, as original and as stable as any of the first prin- 
ciples upon which our reasonings are grounded, and that 
if we called this in question, we had no sure footing for 
any of our principles or reasonings whatsoever; they 
having no higher authority than the original and prima- 
ry feelings of our own minds. 

We now raise another question, closely connected 
with the foregoing discussion, namely, on the supposi- 
tion that we are right in supposing that every property 
implies a subject, and every attribute a substance, is the 
converse or counterpart of this true, that every subject 
implies a property, and every substance an attribute of 
some kind ? or which comes to the same thing, that 
every created existence is necessarily, and from the mere 
fact of its creation, possessed of certain properties, qual- 
ities or powers ? 

That every created being has certain relations to its 
Creator, is just as certain as that it has any existence ; 
and if there are other beings, that it bears corresponding 
relations to them. To suppose otherwise, would be to 
suppose that two lines might be drawn in the universe, 
and yet be neither parallel nor angular in regard to each 
other. 

That every substance 1ms some property involved in 
its existence, is a proposition we should think no less 
evident. For it is just as inconceivable that there should 
be substances without properties, as properties without 



Jgg ON CREATION. 

substances, or either without relations. Take away 
every supposable property from a substance, and what 
would remain ? What is matter without solidity or ex- 
tension, without attraction, repulsion, or any other pro- 
perty cognizable by the senses ? What is mind without 
sensation, perception or reflection — without memory, 
will or desire ? Strip it of its qualities, and you strip it 
of its being; because it seems as impossible that it 
should exist without these, as that it should exist and 
not exist at the same time. A substance and its proper- 
ties, at least those which are primary, mutually involve 
each other, just as a substance and its relations. But 
relations, it may be said, have no real or positive exist- 
ence. They are only modes of being, or the abstract 
notions we form of substances in regard to each other, 
or in regard to something which we suppose to exist ; 
out of our minds, they have no existence at all. It is a 
fact, nevertheless, that we xiecessarily form these notions 
as often as the related substances are presented. Two 
tennis balls are placed upon the table. As soon as I 
perceive them, the relations of distance or contiguity, of 
equality or inequality, are perceived. That is to say, 
these substances excite in my mind such ideas of rela- 
tion, or, they thus affect me; and because they thus 
affect me, I believe and pronounce them to be thus re- 
lated. And I believe, moreover, that while the sub- 
stances in all respects remain the same, and their posi- 
tion and other circumstances the same, these relations 
will be the same. 

Nor does it make any difference in my belief, whether 
it be supposed that these ideas of relation were excited 
in my mind by the immediate agency of God, or by the 
tennis balls themselves. I firmly believe that these re- 
lations exist, and that they will continue to exist, unless 
some change shall take place in the organization or po- 
sition of the substances related. The relations are seen 



ON CREATION. J 59 

to be inevitable upon the supposition of the substances, 
nor can I be made to believe that they depend in any 
measure upon my perceiving them. The fact of these 
relations, in the circumstances supposed, is an eternal 
truth which nothing can destroy — just as it is a truth 
that the opposite sides of a parallelogram must forever 
remain equal while the figure is preserved. 

With the same certainty, if not for the same reason, 
will the properties of a substance stand connected with 
the substance. The existence of the substance involves 
the existence of the properties — certainly of those which 
are essential. A particle of matter, for instance, would 
be just what it is, and its properties or powers in rela- 
tion to the material system just what they are, if there 
were no perceiving eye to observe them. They neces- 
sarily coexist and imply each other, though in a different 
way — the one as a subject, and the other as the property 
belonging to the subject. Whether the properties of 
any substance are to be regarded simply as its relations, 
we undertake not now to determine ; we merely assert 
as a fact, that the one cannot exist where the other does not 
exist. This we think must be true, whether we adopt 
the old philosophy of a substratum in which the proper- 
ties inhere, or the system of Brown, which affirms that 
the properties of substances are but the substances themselves. 
The latter scheme supposes that there is nothing in the 
universe but substances, and that what we call their 
properties and powers are mere abstract notions of the 
relations which the substances bear to each other in the 
changes which take place among them, and the order in 
which the changes occur. 

Fire has the property of melting metals — water the 
property of melting salt — that is, these changes occur 
when the substances concerned come into contact with 
each other, and in circumstances in which, according to 
the laws of their being, such changes are known to fol- 



170 0N CREATION. 

low. In these cases, we remark the relation of antece- 
dent and consequent, or of cause and effect, while the 
changes that take place in consequence of this relation, 
indicate the properties or powers of the bodies that are 
thus related. Still, this philosopher maintains that there 
is here no real positive existence, but in the substances 
supposed — the fire and the metals in the one case, and 
the water and the salt in the other. If there is any posi- 
tive existence besides, what and where is it ? Does it lie 
in the changes which have occurred ? They are obvi- 
ously nothing but a modification of what existed before. 
Does it lie in the mere susceptibility of change ? This is 
only the relation which one substance bears to another, 
which in given circumstances effects a change in it, as its 
antecedent or its cause. Thus, for example, salt has the 
susceptibility of being melted ; but it is only in relation 
to the water, which is said to have the power of melting 
it. It has not this susceptibility absolutely, nor in relation 
to other bodies, which never produce the specified change. 
True it is that the salt and the water must be brought 
together, or the liquefaction will not follow ; but this is 
only a change in position, and adds nothing to the exist- 
ence of either body. There is no circumstance connected 
with the susceptibility supposed, which indicates it to be 
anything but a relation which the salt has to the water 
that dissolves it. 

How then is it, with respect to the power of producing 
change ? The water in which this power is supposed to 
be lodged, is said to melt the salt. What is there here, 
the abettor of this philosophy would ask, but the naked 
substance ? Do you say the power of melting the salt ? 
Truly, he would reply — but what is power ? Is 1 it any 
positive existence in rerum natura ? or is it expressive 
only of the fact, that there will be a change in the salt, 
on the application of water? What more is there in or 
about the process, except it be our belief in the invaria- 



ON CREATION. I yfl 

bleness of the sequence ? or the certainty of the result? 
Is anything else known, can anything else be conceived ? 

If this be a fair statement of the case, (but whether it 
be so or not, it is not our intention to affirm,) it would 
seem, indeed, to follow, that power is neither more nor 
less than invar iableness of antecedence, in relation to some 
change which takes place, as its invariable consequence ; 
and therefore, in this respect, like susceptibility, merely 
marks a certain relation which one substance has to an- 
other, in the changes which occur in the regular order 
of events. Should this be admitted a correct view of 
the phenomena of nature, it cannot be doubted, for a mo- 
ment, that the powers, properties and qualities of substances, 
whether spiritual or material, are inseparable from the 
substances themselves ; that if the substances exist, their 
properties and powers will exist (we speak of those 
which are essential) ; and to annihilate the latter, you 
must annihilate the former. The reason is, according to 
the present hypothesis, they are not so properly different 
things, as the same things, under different aspects ; the 
whole of created existence being only the substances 
which God has made, and their properties and powers 
nothing more than the relations wiiich these substances 
bear to each other, in the changes which take place 
among them. 

We do not avow our belief of the entire correctness 
of this system ; but if it fail, we are fully convinced that 
it does not fail in the article of showing, that wherever 
there are substances, there will inevitably be properties 
or powers, as an inseparable adjunct of their being ; and 
that the mystery in this case, if mystery there be, lies 
not in the fact, that substances should have properties 
or powers, and thus accomplish something, but in the 
mere fact of their existence. 

Let this system, then, be sustained, or otherwise it will 
make no difference in the question before us ; for if any 



172 0N CREATION. 

created substance exist, it is inconceivable that it should 
not involve powers and susceptibilities of some kind ; for 
that which affects nothing, and is affected by nothing, 
most surely is nothing. 

There is no escape from this conclusion, unless it could 
be shown that the property of a thing is something differ- 
ent from the power of a thing, and that the power of a 
thing can be distinguished from a power to affect some- 
thing, or to be affected by something. 

Let any man settle in his own mind distinctly, what 
he means by properties, qualities, or powers, and how he 
comes to know that they are predicable of any particu- 
lar substance, whether matter or mind, and he will per- 
ceive at once that he can form no idea of an inefficacious 
property or a powerless power ; but that in every case 
where he admits the existence of a property, he admits 
it either as the cause or the susceptibility of change. One 
or the other it must be ; and when considered actively, it 
is always regarded as a cause. Be it so, says an objector ; 
but who knows that there is any substance in the case ? 
Why may not properties be all ? It is these alone we 
perceive ; and why resort to a substance in which they 
inhere ? Can we prove the existence of any such sub- 
stance ? Why not believe that properties or powers 
compose the whole of created being ? We answer, for 
the same reason precisely, that we neither do, nor can 
believe, that they compose the whole of uncreated being. 

We believe that God is a substance, a Being, a Person, 
and that he is possessed of certain attributes or powers. 
So he is revealed to us, and such our minds, unsophisti- 
cated by the subtleties of reasoning, naturally conceive 
him to be. 

Atheistical philosophers have indeed propounded the 
abstract theory of a God, without any unity of per- 
ception, will, or design; or rather they have denied 
the existence of God, and substituted in his stead a 



ON CREATION 173 

mere principle, or efficacy. But I know of no Christian 
divines who ever went to this length. They have some- 
times supposed that the Divine attributes were resolvable 
into the Divine essence, or that attributes, as they exist 
in God, and apart from our view, are not distinguishable 
from his essence. But they have never changed the 
tables, and denied his essence, as an Uncreated Being. 
Yet why might not this be done ? if the principle just 
laid down be a sound one — that we know nothing of 
essences or substances, aside from qualities or attributes, or 
in distinction from them, and therefore that the former 
have no claim to be the object of our belief? Surely, 
we know nothing of God's essence, but from the exhibition 
of his attributes or powers ; yet from these we infer the 
reality of his Being. We see everywhere in his works, 
the marks of design, if nothing else ; and our reason 
teaches us, that that which contrives and has design, is 
not a mere principle, but a person. " These capacities," 
says Dr. Paley, " constitute personality, for they imply 
consciousness and thought. They require that which can 
perceive an end, or purpose — as well as the power of 
providing means and directing them to their end. They 
require a centre, in which perceptions unite, and from 
which volitions flow, which is mind. The acts of a mind 
prove the existence of a mind ; and in whatever a mind 
resides is a person. The seat of intellect is a person." 
We shall probably not demur to this reasoning when 
applied to God. Why should we hesitate, when it is 
applied to the creatures of God ? If the exhibition of 
his attributes carry us to the belief of his existence, why 
should not the exhibition of their attributes carry us to 
the belief of their existence ? the properties of mind 
convincing us of mind, and the properties of matter con- 
vincing us of matter. No reason can be assigned why 
the conclusion should be admitted in the one case, and 
not in the other. Nor do I imagine that there is any 



174 0N CREATION. 

doubt as to the reality of the fact; for whether we will 
or not, our belief is permanently fixed on this great sub- 
ject, as every man's actions plainly demonstrate. It is 
a law of our constitution, to believe a subject where we 
find a property, and a property where we find a subject. 

The only legitimate conclusion, then, to be drawn 
from the necessary coexistence of substances, and their 
properties or powers, is either that maintained by Brown 
— that substances and their powers are not so properly 
different things, as the same things under different 
aspects, namely, the substances and their relations ; or, 
the more ancient and common doctrine, that though 
the essence of a thing is to be distinguished from the 
properties of a thing, or from its modes, yet, in the nature 
of things, they are inseparable — so that one cannot exist 
without the other, nor be destroyed without destroying 
the other. 

Give existence, then, and you give relations — give 
existence and you give properties and powers, which 
will continue as long as the existence itself continues, 
unmodified and undiminished in their energy, till some 
change takes place in the substance to which they 
belong, or in the relations which it bears to other sub- 
stances. (See note A.) 

This, so far as I have been able to collect, was the 
current doctrine, both of philosophers and of the vulgar, 
antecedent to the days of Descartes. And it is now the 
fixed belief of all men who have not been entangled by 
the dogmas of a subtle philosophy. On this sentiment has 
been founded the doctrine of second causes, through the 
medium of which it has been supposed that God governs 
the world. 

To me it appears impossible to show^that there are 
any such things as second causes or means in the universe, 
without admitting that the properties and powers of a 
being are inseparable from its existence. For it is only 



ON CREATION. 



175 



by its properties or powers that it does anything, or 
makes itself known. 

If it does nothing, it surely does not affect me ; if it 
does not affect me, how can I know that it exists ? 

This simple statement might seem to settle the ques- 
tion forever. But when the mind gets involved with 
other speculations it finds a resort in words and forms of 
expression, which seem incapable, to say the least, of any 
clear definition. Hence, it is sometimes replied to 
the foregoing statement, that though a second cause (the 
light for instance) does not affect me by its own power, 
yet it is made to do it by the power of the Deity. It is 
a mean in God's hands of accomplishing what it seems 
to accomplish. 

Certainly we shall admit that it is a mean in God's 
hands ; because it derived its being and powers, what- 
ever they are, from God, and both are continued at his 
pleasure. But has it been well considered what is im- 
plied in its being a mean in God's hands ? If it has no 
power how can it be a mean ? Can either God or man 
work by a mean which is absolutely powerless ? Is not 
the supposition wholly inconceivable ? Try this ques- 
tion in your own minds, and see if you can find a case 
where an instrument absolutely powerless can be em- 
ployed ? Nay, try another question. See if you can tell 
what a mean or instrument is stripped of all power. Let it 
he fire, earth, air, water, no matter what. Strip it of all 
power, or, which is the same thing, strip it of every 
property, and then tell us what it is. 

Perhaps, however, when it is said that means have no 
power in themselves, all that is meant is, that they have 
no power to accomplish the particular end for which 
they are employed as a mean, and not that they have no 
power in any respect ; for, in that case, it would seem 
that their use would be impossible, and it could not be 
known that they existed. But why, let me ask, should 



176 



ON CREATION. 



it be supposed, that they have no power in themselves, in 
this particular case, more than in any other case, where 
their properties or powers are displayed ? If they are 
powerless in this connection, why not in every other ? 
or if they exert an influence anywhere, why not here ? 
If, in the supposed case, they have no fitness nor tendency 
to accomplish the effect, where is the wisdom of employ- 
ing them, and what is their use ? What do they actually 
do in the case ? There are only three suppositions which 
can be made on the subject. The first is, that they 
really produce the effect which they seem to produce. 
The second is, that they accomplish nothing, but the 
effect proceeds wholly from the power of God, immedi- 
ately exerted ; and the third is, that the effect proceeds 
partly from the immediate agency of God, and partly 
from the intrinsic force of the means. If the first or last 
supposition be true, means in themselves have some power, 
and do actually accomplish something. But if the second 
supposition contain the truth, then means are indeed 
powerless, and as powerless when employed as when un- 
employed ; for no part of the effect is attributable to 
them ; and if, in all other connections, they were equally 
inefficacious, it could not be known that they existed, 
except by special revelation. 

Besides, in this supposition, can anybody tell what is 
meant by the use of means? If they really accomplish 
nothing, and in their own nature are fitted to accomplish 
nothing, how does God work by them ? What is their 
instrumentality ? Nothing is done through their agency; 
for it is plain they have no agency, the whole effect pro- 
ceeding entirely from the immediate exertion of the 
Divine Power. On this supposition, too, what becomes 
of the Divine wisdom, which is generally thought to ap- 
pear in a wonderful adaptation of means to their ends ? 
If means, in fact, accomplish nothing, they are fitted to 
accomplish nothing, and all wisdom ceases in their appli- 



ON CREATION. J^y 

cation, there being just as much connection between the 
breath of a musquetoe and the falling of a tree, or the 
existence of an oyster and the production of a poem, as 
between the best-adapted means and their end : that is 
to say, there is no instrumental or causal connection what- 
ever ; all is done by the immediate and positive efficiency 
of God. 

But is this a fair statement of the argument ? It is 
not admitted, it will be said, that means are absolutely 
powerless when employed ; they are so only in them- 
selves, and when unemployed. When actually employed 
by the Deity, they have power ; for God gives them a 
power. Tell us, then, what is meant by God's giving 
them a power. Does he impart to them a quality which 
they had not before ? so that it is now their quality or 
power, and not his ? If this be the fact, then in truth 
they do something, and something in and by themselves. 
But if God imparts to them this power the moment they 
are employed, what objection can there be to his having 
imparted it to them before, and to his having lodged it 
in the very constitution of their being ? On the other 
hand, if he does not impart to them any new and distinct 
quality or power, and cause it to become theirs, not his, 
then this power is but his after all, and not theirs, and 
they are equally powerless as before ; then, also, it is 
his agency which is exerted, and not theirs, and the effect 
is solely to be attributed to him, and attributed to him 
as the immediate and exclusive agent in the case. Thus 
we arrive at the same conclusion as in a former part of 
the argument, and with augmented conviction that it is 
the legitimate result of well-grounded premises. 

The whole subject, however, may be set in a still 
stronger light, by adverting to this general, but obvious 
alternative — that what we call the properties or powers 
of created beings are, universally, either the properties 
and powers of such beings, or they are the mere action 
12 



178 0N CREATION. 

or agency of God. There is here no middle ground, 
because what is not a creature's power is God's. Property, 
quality and power, when considered actively, (and in this 
place we so consider them,) are nothing but Brown's 
immediate and invariable antecedents, or the regular 
producers of change. Property, quality and power, are 
here used for the substances in which such attributes 
are supposed to belong ; or, according to an older phi- 
losophy, they are simply the causes of change. Now, 
these causes are either the powers and agency of the 
creature, or they are the powers and agency of God. 
If they belong to creatures, then creatures have an 
agency, and actually accomplish something. If they 
belong to God, then there is no creature agency 
that we know of, and consequently no creatures; for 
creatures, if they exist, can be known only by their 
properties or agencies. If these agencies, therefore, are 
not theirs, but God's, we have no evidence of the exist- 
ence of creatures, but must regard creation as a nullity 
or a dream. 

Let me illustrate this by a familiar example. I suppose 
a cubic inch of gold lies before me. What is the proof 
of its existence ? Certainly nothing but its properties 
which act upon my senses : it affects my vision, it affects 
my touch. If I take it in my hand, I perceive not only 
its solidity and extension, but its gravity. If I throw it 
on the table, or on the floor, it produces sound. But in 
all this, I am conscious only of certain sensations ; whence 
do I learn the existence of the gold ? Why, according 
to the dictates of common sense, I refer my sensations 
to the gold, as their cause. It was that I say, which 
thus variously affected me. But did it thus affect me ? 
am I certain ? It was that, or something else, or my 
sensations have no cause. What am I to believe ? I can 
believe but one of two things — that it was the gold which 
affected me by its own intrinsic agency, which I denomi- 



ON CREATION. 



179 



nate its properties or its powers — or it was God. There 
is room for no other supposition, and no other will pro- 
bably be made. It might, indeed, be said that the effect 
was partly owing to one of these causes, and partly to 
the other. But those who are chiefly concerned in this 
argument, will doubtless admit that my sensations were 
produced, either by the gold itself, or by the immediate 
agency of God. Now if I yield to the first part of this 
alternative, I have not only common sense to support 
me, but I have evidence of the existence of the gold, as 
the workmanship of God, and can judge of the nature 
of its existence by its properties and powers. But if I 
take the other side of the alternative, I give up all evi- 
dence of the gold's existence, and regard its properties 
or agencies as the mere agency of God. Thus I dispose 
of the existence of the gold, and of all material substances 
universally. For since the supposed properties of mat- 
ter are nothing but the agency of Deity, what is there 
left to constitute this substance, but an unknown substra- 
tum, whose existence our opponents in this argument 
stoutly deny ? A material creation is, then, out of the 
question ; and, by the same rules of philosophizing, an 
immaterial one no less. For if I allow the properties of a 
material substance to be nothing but the stated action 
of the Deity, how can I avoid the conclusion that the 
properties of an immaterial substance are, in like manner, 
only his stated action ? I know nothing of matter or of 
mind, but by its powers ; and if these powers are not 
predicable of a created substance in the one case, why 
should they be in the other ? or, to change the form of 
the argument, if the supposed properties of matter ought 
to be considered as the mere agency of God, what reason 
can be given, why the same opinion should not be 
adopted witli respect to the properties of mind? Most 
certainly this conclusion will follow, if we lay down as 
a principle the doctrine contended for by some, " That 



180 



ON CREATION. 



the immediate agency of God is universally the cause, and the 
proximate cause, of all the changes that occur in the material 
or spiritual world. For in assuming this principle, do I 
not assume the fact that God is the cause, and the im- 
mediate cause, of all that is done, whether in heaven or 
in earth, whether among things visible or invisible ? But 
if God is the cause, and the efficient and proximate 
cause, then neither matter nor mind is the cause. I 
mean created mind. Matter can do nothing, because 
what it seems to do, is done by the efficiency of the 
Deity, and its apparent agency is but the agency of the 
Deity. Created mind can do nothing, for the same rea- 
son; because what it seems to do, is done by the imme- 
diate agency of God, and all its seeming qualities and 
agencies are but the exercise of the Divine power. There 
is no retreat from this conclusion, but by allowing a 
created efficiency, which is incompatible with the doctrine 
of God's universal and immediate agency. What then 
becomes of matter and of mind ? Their properties, so 
far as they are efficient, are nothing but God's agency ; 
and inefficient properties, we know, are no properties at 
all. If God's agency, therefore, is not creature agency, 
there is no creature agency, nor creature itself in the uni- 
verse, unless a creature can be found without properties, 
qualities or powers. 

We may have reasoned erroneously, my young brethren, 
but we have endeavored to reason fairly; and if we are 
not mistaken in our results, it will be found that there 
is no other alternative but to admit, that created substances 
are possessed of properties and powers, which are inseparable 
from their very being ; or that, in truth, there are no created 
substances ; and if no created substances, no creation — and 
consequently that the whole system of things, if things 
they can be called, is only God in operation, or God in 
exercise. Was the late President of Yale College, then, 
wrong, or was he right, when he suggested that a certain 



ON CREATION. Jgj 

portion of the Theology of this country was verging 
insensibly, though decidedly, towards Pantheism ? I have 
no hesitation in saying, that I consider such to be fact, 
though it is fact of which the divines concerned are by 
no means aware. 

The source of the evil seems to be, if an evil it is to 
be called, a desire to go below the bottom of things, and 
not to stop where God and nature have raised an insur- 
mountable barrier. We are possessed of very limited 
capacities, and must have some ultimate facts. To ascer- 
tain these is an article of importance everywhere ; but on 
no subject is it more imperatively demanded, than when 
we treat of God, and of his works, whether of creation 
or of providence. 

The work of Creation, we have previously remarked, 
is a great mystery ; and a mystery, I will venture to 
say, which in this world we shall never be able to solve. 
Our wisest course is to admit the fact, that there is a 
creation, both of things visible and invisible, and to con- 
sider well what this fact implies. We must take crea- 
tures as we find them, and judge of their nature or con- 
stitution by the qualities and powers which they exhibit; 
and let no abstract reasonings concerning their depend- 
ence on God, or their connection with God, drive us 
from those first principles common to all our minds; 
principles which lead us almost in spite of ourselves to 
regard every creature, be it material or immaterial, as 
having a distinct and separate existence from the Deity, 
possessing properties or qualities strictly its own, and 
acting in its own little sphere with no less certainty from 
the powers it possesses, or from the constitution of its 
being, than the great Author of nature from whom its 
bein^- was derived. 

There are some objections to the views which we 
have taken, which I would willingly notice, had I not 



J g2 ON CREATION. 

already trespassed upon your patience. Let me, how- 
ever, say one word to an objection which is much relied 
upon by those who do not coincide with the foregoing 
statements. 

It is asked, if creatures act from the intrinsic powers 
of their own being, or from the constitution of their 
being, if this does not render them virtually independent 
of God ? The argument is, if creatures may act without 
the immediate agency of God in them, and upon them, 
causing them to act, what control has God over them ? 
How do we know that they they will not get away from 
God,- or, at least, counteract his will ? Our answer is, 
that in giving creatures their existence, God gave them 
such a constitution, and surrounded them with such in- 
fluences, as necessarily to secure that course of action, 
or that precise development of their powers in every in- 
stance, as his infinite wisdom and goodness had prede- 
termined. His decretive will, therefore, in regard to them 
will most certainly be executed, and with no more diffi- 
culty on this supposition than on any other. 

But this, perhaps, will not satisfy. It may still be said 
that they act independenthj , though they fulfill the plea- 
sure of God. I reply, what if it were so ? What harm 
is there done ? Is the universe less perfect on this sup- 
position than on any other ? or, are its results less cer- 
tain or less glorious ? But I inquire, what is meant by a 
creature's acting independently ? Words are of little im- 
portance, unless they are used with some definite mean- 
ing. Is it meant that the creature acts without God's 
acting immediately upon it, to make it act ? Then I 
admit that the fact is so, and call upon my opponents for 
proof that it is otherwise. But if it is meant that the 
creature is not every moment in the hands of God, to be 
disposed of as he pleases, whether by continuing him 
in being, as he is, or by modifying or destroying that 



ON CREATION. 



183 



being, then I deny that the creature is thus independent; 
for, in all these respects, he is absolutely subject to the 
will of his Sovereign. Or, if by the creature's acting inde- 
pendently be meant that his actions are not subject to the Di- 
vine control, so that they shall be directed or modified 
as God pleases, this also I deny. Because, without 
interfering at all with the creature's powers of action, it 
is perfectly easy for the Divine Being to bring him under 
such influences from within and without, as shall shape 
his course in the manner and to the end which the 
Divine Wisdom has appointed. 

But let me here put a question : we hear a great deal 
about God's controlling the actions of his creatures ; now 
I want to know what sense there is in this language, if 
creatures have no actions or agencies to control? Is it 
the same thing to control an action as to create an action ? 
I have not so learned English, although I am still will- 
ing to learn. When I control the actions of another, I 
always suppose that other capable of action, and that the 
influence which I exert presupposes it, and is employed 
in modifying the action thus controlled, either in direct- 
ing to the object, or in some way bounding or limiting 
its influence. And I see no reason why the language 
should not have a like import when applied to God. 
When it is said of him, that the wrath of man shall 
praise him, and that the remainder of wrath he will 
restrain, it does not look much like his immediately cre- 
ating that wrath ; unless to restrain a thing is the same 
as to give being to a thing. 

I close this discussion with the following remarks : 
First. That we should not be hasty in our decisions on 
a subject which it must be admitted is very subtle, and 
attended with many difficulties, and where men of the 
most powerful intellect have not been agreed. And 
Second. That we must bear with those who differ from 



Ig4 0N CREATION. 

us, and allow each one the full right of examining and 
judging for himself; that we should do this not only 
with all the meekness and tenderness of Christians, but 
with all the candor and liberality of philosophers — 
whose common aim should be be to encourage investi- 
gation and to advance the cause of truth. 



LECTUBE VI. 



ON SEC OND CAUSES 



ARE SECOND CAUSES EFFICIENT CAUSES 1 

By second causes, in this question, are intended causes 
which owe their existence, and consequently their pow- 
ers, to the Great First Cause. Whatever be their nature 
or their influence, they derive all from God, and cannot 
act but in subordination to his will. In this sense, all 
created existences are second causes, so far as their 
agency is concerned in the changes which take place 
either in the material or spiritual world. Whether they 
are really and trukj efficient, effecting what they seem to 
effect, is the question. Two opinions on this subject 
have prevailed. Antecedently to the days of Descartes, 
Bishop Stillingfleet remarks, there was but one. Till 
then, all the world believed, whether philosophers or 
vulgar, what the great mass have done since — that 
second causes were efficient causes, the real producers 
of the changes found in constant conjunction with them. 
Nor can it be doubted that this statement is substantially 
correct, since the same fact is admitted by Professor 
Stewart and others. We know it was the opinion of 
Aristotle and of Cicero, among the ancients — of Bacon, 
Locke, Newton, Boyle, among the moderns. Even Des- 
cartes himself did not in the main depart from this long- 



X86 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

received doctrine, though in some of his speculations he 
laid the foundation for a new theory. As he could not 
conceive how matter could act upon mind, nor created 
mind upon matter, he asserted, " that all motion comes 
immediately from God, and that it is a mode in matter, 
but not in God." According to Stillingfleet, he was 
afraid to speak out, lest he should make God the soul 
of the world. But not so his followers. Malebranche, 
and others of the same school, eagerly seizing upon this 
hint, presently carried their doctrine so far as to affirm 
that second causes have no efficiency in the production 
of sensation, and of course none in the changes which 
occur in the physical objects around us. They contended 
that God was the efficient cause in both cases, and, in 
short, the only efficient cause in the universe. 

This doctrine soon became prevalent throughout Eu- 
rope, and, with some modification, makes a part of the 
metaphysical systems of Clarke, Butler and Berkeley. 
It is a prominent feature in the speculations of Reid, 
Stewart and Beattie, though the first often seems to 
contradict himself upon this article — a circumstance the 
more remarkable, as he evidently made this subject a 
matter of much study and reflection. Professor Stewart 
has noticed this inconsistency, and Professor Beazely has 
animadverted upon it in terms of unmeasured severity. 
" The chain of natural causes," Dr. Reid observes, " has 
not unfitly been compared to a chain hanging down from 
heaven : a link that is discovered supports the link below 
it, but it must itself be supported, and that which sup- 
ports it must be supported, until we come to the First 
Link, which is supported by the throne of the Almighty." 
And the general doctrine which this comparison illus- 
trates, if it illustrate anything, is expressed in the fol- 
lowing sentence : " Every natural cause must have a 
cause, until we ascend to the First Cause, which is un- 
caused, and which operates not by necessity, but by 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



187 



will." Here the efficiency of natural causes seems to 
be distinctly recognized, and the writer talks like Lord 
Verulam, or one of the philosophers of olden time. 
Were he, indeed, the advocate of the intrinsic power 
of second causes, I know not how he could have ex- 
pressed himself with more clearness and precision. We 
give this statement not so much to show the inconsist- 
ency of the writer, as how ready men are to relapse into 
plain common sense notions, in spite of their philosophy, 
whenever their philosophy departs from the unbiased 
voice of nature. The most wakeful caution is seldom 
sufficient to protect a man against relapses of this sort. 
It is not to be doubted, however, that Dr. Reid, notwith- 
standing these occasional aberrations from his system, 
was a strenuous advocate for the new theory, namely, 
That second causes have no power, but are to be regarded 
as the mere antecedents or signs of change, the efficiency 
never being in them, but in the immediate agency of 
God. The only exception which he or Professor Stewart 
makes to this sweeping universality, is in the case of 
voluntary action, where they suppose the mind acts as 
the immediate and direct efficient, both in the production 
of volition and in those mental and bodily changes which 
instantly follow it. Here, they say, man is an efficient 
cause. In every other case, throughout the physical and 
moral world, God is the sole efficient. Do you ask for the 
proof of man's efficiency in voluntary action ? They an- 
swer, our own consciousness ; by which they mean that 
such is our mental constitution, that every man is irre- 
sistibly led to refer his voluntary actions to his own 
inherent powers, and to regard himself as the only true 
and proper efficient in the case. 

But here Dr. Reid demurs, not being quite certain of 
this. We are certain only, he says, of our volition, and 
the consequent bodily or mental change ; we are not 
certain that our volition was the efficient cause of that 



188 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

change : it may have resulted from the immediate agency 
of God. 

He would probably limit his doctrine of creature effi- 
ciency to the single fact of volition, and contend that here, 
and here only, have we evidence that man is truly an 
agent, or an efficient cause. But why this solitary ex- 
ception 1 The theory would certainly be more simple, 
and perhaps more plausible, without it. Why not go 
the whole length with Malebranche, and others of that 
school, and say that " Go d is the immediate producer of all 
change, of all absolutely ; and every event in the universe 
is at once accounted for, and accounted for on one and 
the same principle ? But neither Reid nor Stewart will 
for a moment consent to this, because they perceive that 
such a doctrine would instantly sweep away every ves- 
tige of created power — that is, active power — and with it, 
according to their principles, all our notions of moral 
responsibility. They did well, therefore, to pause at a 
point which, according to them, threatened to overturn 
the foundations of virtue, and to set men loose from those 
ties which bind them as moral beings to one another, 
and to the throne of their Creator. 

But a question here may well be asked, on the score 
of consistency, can these writers deny the efficiency of 
second causes in the physical world, and maintain it in 
the moral ? What are the facts in the case ? Why, in 
both worlds, we perceive a train of antecedents and 
consequents, a train alike uniform and invariable, and 
we directly perceive nothing more. But because we 
cannot persuade ourselves that this uniformity and inva- 
riableness take place without any ground or reason, we 
recognize in every change a cause, and the fact of its 
operation, though we remain profoundly ignorant of the 
modus. Nothing is seen by us in either train, but the 
phenomena, and the order in which they arise ; and 
though we always connect with them two things which 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



189 



we cannot see, viz., a subject of the phenomena and 
power to produce them, yet these are matters of inference, 
not of direct observation. But we see just as much, and 
infer just as much, in relation to one class of phenomena 
as the other. 

Let it be farther remarked, that there is in the human 
mind a sort of constitutional propensity to refer every 
change to its immediate and invariable antecedent as 
its cause, and to do this as readily and with as much 
confidence in changes which take place in the physical 
as in the moral world, while this reference always car- 
ries with it a belief of some fitness or adaptation in the 
antecedent to be the cause. We may not know what 
this fitness or adaptation is, but we can never believe 
the result to be arbitrary; for why this result rather 
than another ? and why any result rather than none at 
all ? From the very constitution of our minds, we are 
compelled to believe that there was some ground or 
reason for the change, and for the change being as it is 
rather than otherwise. On this principle alone is it, that 
we always expect the same result, where all the previous 
circumstances are the same. Now, if I regard the ante- 
cedent as powerless, in a train of physical changes, what 
reason can I assign for its not being equally powerless 
in a train which is moral ? Or, if I allow power or 
causality in the antecedent to changes which occur in 
mind, why not allow it in the antecedent to changes 
which occur in matter ? or which is the same thing if 
the mental or moral antecedent be an efficient cause 
why should not the material or physical antecedent be 
so likewise, since, to our observation, there is no differ- 
ence in the facts and circumstances of the two ? In both 
trains, physical and moral, there is the same uniformity 
and invariableness of sequence, the same belief of causa- 
tion attendant on every change, and the same natural or 
constitutional propensity to refer to the known or sup- 



190 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



posed antecedent, as the efficient cause of the change. 
And besides, if the regular antecedent, in both cases, be 
not that cause, we are entirely ignorant of what is. 

But it may be said that matter and mind are widely 
different substances, possessed of entirely different quali- 
ties, and therefore, that we cannot argue from one to 
the other touching the question of their efficiency. Why 
not, we ask, when the question is concerning power, or 
the real producer of change ? We know nothing either 
of matter or of mind, but by its qualities ; and we judge 
of both, only by the changes which they seem to produce 
or undergo ; and if no change was produced, or suffered 
by them, we should not know that they had any quali- 
ties, or were possessed of being. To know the powers 
of matter, therefore (using the term in its active sense), 
is simply to know what changes it produces, or is fitted 
to produce ; and to know the powers of mind, or whether 
it has any power, is to know the changes it causes or 
effects. If it cause no change, it has no power; and the 
same is true of matter, and for the same reason, viz., 
that to have power, and to be the producer of change, is 
only one and the same thing. Matter and mind, then, 
for aught that appears, are justly comparable in this par- 
ticular ; for if power belong to them at all, it must neces- 
sarily be indicated by the changes or effects which they 
severally produce. This, indeed, narrows the ground of 
comparison, but shows at the same time, the propriety 
of [making it, and settles, we should think, the question 
whether they have an equal claim to power. For what 
is the language of 'fact with respect to the actual efficiency 
of these substances ? Is it true that matter and mind 
severally produce change ? matter acting upon matter, 
and mind upon mind, and both mutually affecting each 
other ? They certainly appear so to do ; and so far as 
observation is concerned, they furnish precisely the same 
reason to believe in the efficiency of the one, as in the 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



191 



efficiency of the other. We believe in the efficiency of 
mind, because, to our apprehension, one mind often affects 
another, while it produces changes in itself, and in that 
corporeal system with which it is mysteriously united. 
When I convince my friend of an error, or persuade him 
to a right action, I exert an influence which entitles me 
to consider myself as a cause, in relation to the change 
produced in his mind ; not immediately, indeed, but 
through the instrumentalities I employ. But the same 
general action developes a process in my own mind, 
connected with a change in my bodily powers. I did 
not attempt to convince or persuade my friend, till I had 
formed the purpose of so doing; this purpose was a volun- 
tary act, or determination of the mind, and the result of 
consideration, or some previous state, in which motives 
were brought to bear upon my voluntary powers ; and 
this purpose or volition was more immediately or remotely 
the cause of some corresponding change in the organs 
employed in expressing my thoughts. Here, then, is 
mind producing a change in itself, or more properly, one 
state of mind producing another state of mind, while the 
latter causes a change in the organic system, or bodily 
powers. 

True, it may be said, but here is a voluntary act, which 
the mind is conscious of performing by its own inherent 
powers. Be it so. But was not this act performed in 
the view of motive, and under its exciting and com- 
manding influence ? Could it have taken place without 
motive, and independent of motive ? All experience 
will say, No. At the same time, we cheerfully concede 
that both mind and motive were essential to volition, and 
jointly constituted its immediate and invariable antece- 
dent, or its true and proper cause. Motive alone, if we 
could conceive its existence possible, would have been 
unavailing without mind to perceive it, and to be suscep- 
tible of its influence; and mind alone would have been 



192 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



equally unavailing, as to volition, if there had not been 
a motive perceived, which was adapted to the suscepti- 
bility of the mind ; and if the mind also had not pos- 
sessed the capacity of voluntary exertion. Taken 
together, these things formed the previous requisites to 
volition, and so far as we can perceive, the only requi- 
sites. Thus it is universally ; wherever these requisites 
exist, volition is the certain consequence. They are its 
efficient, and never-failing cause. Still we contend that 
their efficiency is not more evident than the efficiency of 
material objects around us. 

It is not more certain that the things we have named 
are the cause of volition, than that fire is the cause of 
the sensation of heat — light the cause of vision, or im- 
pulse the cause of motion. We ground this assertion 
upon the fact that these physical objects are, to our 
apprehension, as truly the producers of change in the 
cases specified, as any antecedent or previous requisites 
can be, in the case of volition ; and hence it is, that until 
the mind is perverted by the reasonings of a dubious 
philosophy, no question is ever made as to the efficiency 
of natural causes in the material world, more than in the 
spiritual. 

The unbiased A r oice of reason, is to allow causality 
in the regular and proximate antecedent of any change, 
or in what is supposed to be the antecedent ; * nor does 
it make any difference, whether the antecedent be found 
in matter, or in mind. If it be found in matter, I take 
the testimony of my senses in the case ; if it be found in 
mind, I take the testimony of consciousness; and to 
both I am compelled by my constitution to yield an 
implicit faith. I can no more doubt when I thrust my 
hand into the fire, that it is the fire which burns me, 
than I can doubt the reality of my suffering, or the con- 

• See note A, at the end of Lecture 6. 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



193 



sequent will or desire to withdraw my hand ; for why 
do I will to withdraw it, but because I believe my suf- 
ferings to be produced by the fire ? I see a piece of 
wax placed in the flame of a lighted candle. The wax 
melts. Can I doubt what melts it ? Is not my convic- 
tion as intuitive, and as unalterable, that this change 
was produced by the flame, as that my sensation of heat 
was caused by the fire ? You present me with a rose ; 
I perceive its variegated colors, and am regaled with its 
fragrance. Here are two perceptions — one by the eye, 
one by the organ of smelling. What do I believe with 
respect to the rose ? Certainly that it is something 
without, and that it affects my organs of vision and 
smelling ; or, which is the same thing, that it is the cause 
of two sensations, the sensation of color and of fragrance. 
This is what I believe, and cannot help but believe ; and 
this belief I truly express, when I say I see the rose — 1 
perceive its fragrance. For in the very fact of perception, 
I am carried to the belief of something without, and 
something as the cause of my perception. This fact 
will be noticed more particularly hereafter, and I advert 
to it now, not so much to show that matter has efficiency 
no less truly than mind, but that the testimony of sense 
is as much to be regarded in this question, as the testi- 
mony of consciousness. The truth is, that the voice of 
both is imperative, and that whatever may be the princi- 
ples of our philosophy, we cannot refuse our assent to 
either. In the very language we employ, and in the 
whole conduct of life, we give abundant evidence of the 
reality and power of our belief. It is to no purpose, 
therefore, to allege, that mind is efficient rather than 
matter, because I am conscious of its agency ; and from 
my consciousness am compelled to believe it an efficient 
cause ; for, with equal truth, it may be said that I per- 
ceive the efficiency of matter, and from my perception am 
c ompelled to believe in its power or causality. Percep 

13 



194 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

tion and consciousness are different witnesses, but accord- 
ing to an established law of our nature, they are regarded 
by us in their respective spheres, as equally competent 
and equally credible. 

Are we not entitled then to say, that a system of phi- 
losophy which maintains the efficiency of second causes 
in the moral world, and denies it in the physical, is in- 
consistent with itself— since what it affirms has no greater 
evidence of truth than what it denies ? We are much 
deceived as to the facts in the case, or an impartial exam- 
ination will compel us to adopt one of these propositions, 
either that second causes have power in both worlds, physical 
and moral, or that they have power in neither. The latter 
proposition was embraced by Malebranche, and great was 
his labor to free it from objection — but, as most men 
believe, with very little success. The subject, however, 
is still open to investigation, and we inquire, what is 
truth in relation to it ? Is God, as this philosopher sup- 
posed, the only efficient cause in the universe, producing 
by his immediate agency all the changes we see ? or 
have second causes power to produce effects by an effi- 
ciency properly their own — imparted to them, indeed, 
by their almighty Creator, but lodged in their very con- 
stitution, or in the fact of their existence ? A ball is 
seen to move at the very instant it receives a stroke 
from my hand. The inquiry is, what moved the ball ? 
Was it the stroke which I gave it ? or did its motion 
come immediately from God ? If I advocate the effi- 
ciency of second causes, I must make the former suppo- 
sition. If I deny their efficiency, I must take the latter, 
unless, with certain mystical philosophers, I attempt to 
split the difference, and maintain that the motion of the 
ball was produced neither by the stroke separately, nor 
yet by the immediate agency of God, but by an effi- 
ciency mysteriously compounded of the two. At some 
future time, we may perhaps take occasion to examine 



ON SECOND CAUSES. \ 95 

this last-mentioned theory, which includes among its 
advocates men distinguished for their talents and their 
virtues. At present we confine our remarks to the ques- 
tion : Whether God be the only efficient in the universe ? 
or whether second causes have power ? This I take to 
be the true and proper alternative in the case. 

First. If second causes have no power, that is, if they 
are not causes per se, producing effects by their own 
inherent energy, as truly as any cause can be supposed 
to do, why have they gone so long under the name of 
causes ? Is it that mankind have supposed them to be 
the regular but powerless antecedents of change ? the 
mere occasions for some hidden but mighty power to 
operate ? Rather is it not certain that from the begin- 
ning of the world they have been regarded as truly effi- 
cient in the changes with which they are regularly con- 
nected? This is a matter of historical record, as our 
opponents will admit. But we need no other proof of 
it, than the very structure of language. Men give 
names as the signs, or symbols, of their thoughts ; and 
hence their mode of thinking cannot fail to appear from 
the language they employ. We pretend not to doubt 
that men have always believed in the relation of cause 
and effect, inasmuch as we find in every language under 
heaven, many words Expressive of this relation. Nor do 
we question for a moment their firm belief in an exter- 
nal world, since this belief is constantly indicated in the 
words they employ. By the same mode of reasoning 
we become assured that the early and steady opinion of 
mankind has been, that second causes are efficient, because 
this notion is involved in the very first principles of lan- 
guage, and involved as extensively as the fact of causa- 
tion itself. You cannot open a page in any book, ancient 
or modern, without perceiving this truth written as with 
a sunbeam. Our opponents must concede to us, that 
that would be a strange kind of language, in which 



196 °N SECOND CAUSES. 

should be found no such words as cause, effect, produce, occa- 
sion, create, destroy, nor any kindred terms, which, like 
all active verbs, are expressive of an action, and of course 
of an agent, whose action it is. They cannot but perceive 
that such a language would be impossible upon the 
acknowledged principles and laws of human thought. 
But we ask, if it is not equally inconceivable, and equally 
impossible, to frame a language which should recognize 
only one cause or agent in the universe ? The very 
attempt would run so counter to the usual habits of 
thinking and speaking, as to subject a man to the most 
pointed ridicule. He would instantly become a barba- 
rian to others, if others were not barbarians to him. 
From this cause it is, that those who have professed to 
deny an external world, have been obliged to talk and write 
like other men. They could not otherwise have made 
themselves understood, nor avoided the sneer which a 
language conformable to their avowed opinions would 
ihave occasioned. The same is true of those who, like 
David Hume, deny any such thing as cause and effect, in 
the common and appropriate sense of these terms. They 
are obliged to talk and to act like other men — that is, 
just as if they believed what others believe, that cause 
and effect mark a relation not of priority and subsequence 
only, but of productive power or efficiency. Let them 
shape their language to their philosophy, and they could 
not make out a single page intelligible to themselves or 
to others. Nor is the case at all different with those 
who deny the efficiency of second causes; they are obliged 
to use a language, and to pursue a course, which is every 
moment at war with their hypothesis. They must speak 
of themselves, and of others, as agents, and not as mere 
events or effects — of the changes which occur in the physi- 
cal and moral world, as produced by their appropriate 
causes, that is, by their regular antecedents, which by 
common consent are regarded as the real producers of 



ON SECOND CAUSES. ] 97 

change ; and which they themselves must so regard, in 
their language at least, or become both unintelligible and 
ridiculous. 

Does this afford no presumption that second causes 
have power ? Why the impression, so early, so deep, so 
universal, so hard to be eradicated, and returning at every 
moment with all its force, even in those who have pro- 
fessed theoretically to cast it off? That it is an impres- 
sion of this character is most evident, from the influence 
it has had in modifying every language in the known 
world, and from the difficulty, may I not say from the 
impossibility, of framing a language upon any other prin- 
ciples. But at this very point we may be told that this 
deep-rooted and common belief is of no weight in the 
argument — that there are many such beliefs and impres- 
sions which every scientific man will admit to be unfound- 
ed — and yet their influence in the structure of language 
cannot be denied. The vulgar have no correct opinions 
of the figure and motion of the earth, nor of the mag- 
nitude and distance of the sun, nor of many other physi- 
cal facts, the nature of which they judge of from the re- 
port of their senses. If they may be deceived in these 
cases, why not in others ? Who knows but their belief 
of cause and effect, and of the influence of second 
causes in particular, may not be as illusory as their belief 
of the figure of the earth, or the size and distance of the 
sun ? 

Our answer is this: the light of science has detected 
an error in the one case, but is not able to do it in the 
other. You may prove to a man by unanswerable argu- 
ments, that the earth is not B plane, as he has supposed, 
and that the sun is a nnich greater body, and at a dis- 
tance vastly more remote, than lie ever imagined; but 
can you prove to him that lire does not fuse metals, nor 
water melt salt I that light is not the cause of vision to 



198 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

the healthful eye ? nor wringing a man's nose the cause 
of its spouting blood ? 

Besides, when the vulgar are deceived in the cases 
above mentioned, what is it that deceives them ? Is it 
believing the report of their senses ? and are they unde- 
ceived at last by rejecting that report ? Nothing can be 
wider from the fact. Their senses have not reported 
falsely, nor have they fallen into error by receiving that 
report, and receiving it with the most unqualified confi- 
dence — a thing, by the way, which no man can help. 
Their error originated in an entirely different source — in 
the inferences they drew from the natural appearances 
of objects. These appearances were correctly reported, 
so far as the senses simply were concerned ; or rather 
these appearances are nothing different from the report 
of sense, and are, in all cases doubtless, the same to the 
philosopher and to the peasant. The aspect of the sun, 
for instance, is not different to the eye of the one, from 
what it is to the eye of the other, but the difference lies 
in their individual and separate conclusions. And where- 
fore this difference ? Not because the philosopher ques- 
tions the testimony of sense, for that he cannot do ; but 
because he compares this testimony in different cases and 
circumstances, and comes to a conclusion which the com- 
parison, in his judgment, authorizes.* He believes in 
natural appearances as much as the vulgar, and his sensi- 
tive impressions are in no respect different from theirs. 
Were it not thus, he would have no means of detecting 
erroneous conclusions concerning outward objects, whe- 
ther made by himself or by others. This is too obvious to 
require farther elucidation, and therefore we remark that 
it is not difficult to distinguish between what are some- 
times called illusions of the senses, or more properly, incor- 
rect inferences from the testimony of sense, and those common- 
sense notions, or primary beliefs, which no man can shake 

* Beattie on Truth. Part I. 



ON SECOND CAUSES. \ 99 

off, if he would. The former admit of correction, from 
new observation, or from careful comparison of various 
observations, whether in relation to the same or different 
objects. The latter remain firm and unalterable, what- 
ever pains may be taken to annihilate or modify them. 
Place their objects in what light you will, raise your 
doubts, and bring forth your strong reasons, still nature 
is true to her purpose, and these instinctive principles 
maintain their ground. Now, what we contend is, that 
a belief in the efficiency of second causes is one of these 
principles. It is early, deep, universal, and incapable of 
being eradicated — just as really and truly as the belief of 
causation, and of an external world. Men can be found, 
indeed, who deny them all ; but do they not contradict 
the voice of nature, if that voice can be learned from 
the sentiments of mankind in all ages and nations ? 
Nay, do they not contradict the inward convictions of 
their own minds, if their actions can be taken as a true 
index of their convictions ? 

That fire fuses metals, and water melts salt, are facts, 
we have said, which no man can disprove ; but are we 
not entitled to say, that they are facts which every man, 
from the very constitution of his mind, is compelled to 
believe ? Can he any more doubt, that it is a quality of 
fire to fuse metals, and of water to melt salt, than he 
can doubt the existence of the substances of which these 
qualities are predicated ? But Berkeley, it may be said, 
doubted both ; he believed in no material substances or 
qualities, nor in anything which may be denominated an 
external world. True, such was his theory ; but what 
was his practice ? Did he act upon his own principles ? 
His philosophy said there was no external world ; that 
what we call sensible things are merely our own sensa- 
tions, produced by no external object, but by the imme- 
diate agency of God. But did he believe this when he 
attempted to argue with his fellow-men, whom he must 



200 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

have considered as existing without, while yet he had 
no greater evidence of their existence than of other 
physical objects around him, and no evidence at all, but 
upon the testimony of sense. 

Into a like inconsistency do they fall, who deny the 
efficiency of second causes ; for, while they profess to 
regard them as powerless, they act towards them every 
moment as if they believed them possessed of an inhe- 
rent and unremitting energy. 

The whole of the preceding argument goes upon the 
principle that the efficiency of second causes is a common- 
sense notion, deeply engraven upon the human mind, and 
showing itself in the very structure of language, not only 
in modifying some of its less essential forms, but in giving 
birth to first principles, and shaping the very ground- 
work. Nor can we readily be persuaded that a senti- 
ment at once so radical and universal can be accounted 
for, but by supposing it a dictate of nature, the result of 
that reason and common understanding which God has 
bestowed upon mankind. 

[Note A.] The sentiment advanced in this place, and in other parts of the 
Lecture is, that whatever is regarded as the regular antecedent of any change, is 
instantly recognized by the mind as the efficient cause of the change ; and that this 
is the unbiased voice of reason, or the dictate of common sense, from which 
there lies no appeal. If this statement be correct, it cannot fail to be perceived, 
that the efficiency of second causes is placed on as firm a basis as the doctrine of 
cause and effect, or the fact of an external world. To this statement, however, 
it has been objected that the supposed antecedent is not always the real antecedent; 
of course, that the mind is sometimes mistaken in its reference, regarding that as 
the proximate cause which, in fact, is not that cause. Will not this abate our con- 
fidence in the argument for the efficiency of second causes, drawn from the common 
and prevailing sentiment, that the known or supposed antecedent is truly an effi- 
cient cause ? If the mind may mistake in its reference in one case, why not in 
another ? if it does not intuitively and universally detect the true efficient in the 
case, how can we be sure that its dictates are not wholly fallacious ? 

Our reply is, that though the mind may mistake as to the proximate cause of a 
change, it does not thence follow, that it mistakes as to the efficiency of the cause 
to which the change is referred. The mistake lies in the proximity of the cause to 
the effect, not in the productive power of the cause, to which the effect is attributed. 
The common opinion is, that fire fuses metals, and water melts salt ; but suppose 
it was ascertained that these substances produce their respective results through 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 201 

the intervention of a medium or principle not heretofore discovered ? Their powers 
would not be less real, but their agency would be less immediate than is now 
generally supposed. 

Or take another example. Every man believes that his will is concerned as a 
cause in the free and unconstrained motion of his hand. He considers the muscles of 
this organ as obedient to his will, and subjected to his control. Nor is his belief, 
as to the efficiency of his will, in any measure altered, when he learns that the 
affection of the nerves connected with the organ constitutes another link in the 
chain. According to his first impression, his volition was the immediate antecedent 
to the contraction of the muscles which give motion to the hand. Now he finds 
the affection of the nerves as prior to that contraction, and necessary to its occur- 
rence. But though the train is lengthened, the causes concerned are not less effi- 
cient, nor does he ascribe less power to his will. 



LECTURE VII. 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



ARE SECOND CAUSES EFFICIENT CAUSES 1 

In the preceding Lecture, we adverted to the different 
answers which had been given to this question; and 
stated that before the time of Descartes, all mankind, 
both learned and unlearned, believed second causes to 
be efficient, producing the changes which they seem to 
produce — that since that period, many philosophers have 
professed to regard them as powerless, and the mere ante- 
cedents or signs of change. 

We examined, at some length, the opinion of Dr. Reid 
and Professor Stewart, who maintain the efficiency of 
second causes in the moral, but deny it in the physical 
world. We attempted to show that their doctrine was 
unsupported by facts, and incompatible with itself; and 
that, to be consistent on this subject, we must adopt one 
of two propositions, either that second causes have power 
in both worlds, or in neither world ; or, which comes to 
the same thing, either that God is the only efficient cause 
in the universe — producing by his immediate agency all 
the changes we see — or that second causes have power, 
and as truly in matter as in mind. 

We adopted the latter proposition, and alleged in 
favor of it the well-known fact that mankind, from the 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



203 



earliest records of time, have steadily acted under the 
full conviction of its truth. The very structure of lan- 
guage, aside from historical testimony, we considered as 
an unanswerable proof of such conviction. In short, that 
so deep and radical is this sentiment — so completely in- 
wrought in the very first principles of language — that no 
man can make himself understood without employing 
terms which fully involve it. From this important fact 
we deduced the inference, that the efficiency of second 
causes has a strong claim to be considered a common sense 
notion, not unlike the general notion of cause and effect, 
or the belief of an external world. 

Second. We remark now, that it seems difficult to con- 
ceive how men should ever arrive at the notion of cause 
and effect as an abstract relation, or at the belief of any- 
thing without them, or besides them, unless they went 
upon the principle that second causes have power. For if 
these notions are not born with them, nor communicated 
by special revelation, (neither of which will be pretend- 
ed,) they must be acquired in the exercise of the mental 
faculties, either with or without the aid of the bodily 
powers. So far as I know, it is an admitted fact that the 
notion of a cause first arises in the mind on observing 
some change, and remarking the circumstances in which 
this change has occurred. 

That we require the idea of antecedent and consequent 
in this way, and of the more general relation of regular 
antecedence and of regular consequence, seems to admit 
of no doubt. Nor will it be questioned, I suppose, that 
the idea of particular antecedence is obtained before the 
idea of general or uniform antecedence. Why should 
not all (his be true, with respect to cause and effect? 
Can it be believed that 'nun have the abstract notion of 
cause, and dial no effect can lake place without a cause, 
before they have learned what a cause is, through (he 
medium of some change in a particular case ? or, which 



204 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

amounts to the same thing, before some change, and the 
circumstances in which it occurs, have suggested to them 
the idea of a cause, and of a particular cause ? Do we 
go from particulars to generals, or from generals to partic- 
ulars ? We can be at no loss which is the more natural 
of our thoughts. 

Let us suppose a newly born infant whose first sensa- 
tion is some bodily pain. Does he ascribe this pain to a 
cause ? There is not the remotest ground to believe 
that he has the least idea of cause. He knows not, 
perhaps, that he has a body, or that anything besides 
himself exists ; and some might even doubt if he had re- 
flection enough to carry him to the knowledge of his 
own being. Be this as it may ; as his faculties develope 
and he becomes capable of observing the changes within 
and without him, and at the same time of remarking the 
circumstances in which they arise, it is easy to see how 
he may acquire the notion of a cause. He puts his hand 
into the flame of a candle, and instantly experiences a 
painful sensation. If not at first, after a few trials he 
learns the cause of his sufferings, and cannot be induced 
to repeat the experiment. I say he learns the cause of 
his sufferings, by learning from the circumstances of the 
case that they were produced by the flame of the candle. 
But is not this saying too much ? Perhaps it is only the 
occasion of his sufferings that he learns. He perceives 
nothing more, it may be said, and he infers nothing 
more than the simple conjunction of two events — his con- 
tact with the candle, and his sensation of pain. Then it 
is certain he has not yet arrived at the knowledge or 
conception of a cause, nor is it easy to see how he ever 
can. He perceives a connection in time and place be- 
tween two events ; but if he does not perceive nor infer 
a causal connection, he must regard the one as the mere 
antecedent or sign of the other, and has no idea of 
causality in the case. Is it not, however, demonstrably 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 205 

certain that the little reasoner carries his thoughts much 
farther ? He verily believes the candle to be the cause 
of his sufferings, and therefore ascribes to it, in his im- 
agination at least, qualities which correspond to this 
belief. If it were not so, how could he learn the qualities 
of the candle ? or why should he ever suspect it to have 
any qualities ? The fact of his belief we take to be 
unquestionable ; and the amount of it is, that his suffer- 
ings were produced by the flame of the candle, and that 
they will return if he apply his hand as before. Now 
what is this but bringing him to the knowledge of a 
cause, and of a particular cause ? — from which, in similar 
circumstances, he is led to expect a similar result. 

Will you say that he is mistaken in his reference, and 
that the true cause is not discovered by him ? Whether 
it be so or not, he has acquired the notion of a cause, 
and in the present case is fixed in his belief what the 
cause is, and regulates his conduct accordingly. 

In a manner correspondent with this, there is reason 
to believe that all men acquire the notion of a cause. 
They are led to this conception by observing some change 
in themselves, or in the objects around them, and by 
noticing the circumstances in which this change lias 
occurred. That it did not occur in other circumstances, 
and did occur in these, suggests the idea of their influ- 
ence or agency in the case. To these, therefore, the 
mind refers as the immediate antecedent and cause of 
the change. But why this reference, it may be said, 
unless some general notion of a cause had been previ- 
ously obtained ? I answer, this reference is nothing but 
an act of induction, or inferential reasoning, from the 
facts in the case; it is the judgment which the mind 
forms in view of Jill the circumstances, and is neither 
more nor less than a dictate of common sense. A cause 
is that which does something* Is it st range that this notion 
should arise in the mind, when something is seen to be 



206 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

done ? Far more strange, would it be, if this were not 
the fact, since even the brute creation acquire the notion 
of a cause in similar circumstances. We speak not 
without reflection. It is an admitted fact, that brutes 
never rise to abstract conceptions, or conclusions at all ; 
or if they do this, it is only in the very humblest degree. 
But that they have the notion of particular causes, and 
that this notion is acquired by experience and observa- 
tion, is just as certain, as that the cur trembles before the 
uplifted lash, which has just been buried in his skin, or 
that he often turns upon the man who inflicts an injury 
upon himself or his master. To say that it is only the 
occasion, and not the cause of their sufferings, that ani- 
mals learn by their experience, is not only to beg the 
question in debate, but is utterly irreconcilable with the 
clear indications which they give, both of their gratitude 
and their resentment. 

Shall we allow experience and observation, then, to 
teach the animal what neither the one nor the other can 
ever teach man, the notion of a cause. That the one, in 
the exercise of his humble faculties, acquires a know- 
ledge, which the other, with his superior endowments, 
can never acquire, unless by a teaching which is prior to 
experience, and altogether transcends it ? True philoso- 
phy can never be driven to such shifts. 

Assuming, therefore, what we consider in no degree 
doubtful, that men acquire the notion of a cause through 
the medium of some observed change, in the manner 
above stated, and we derive an argument in favor of the 
fact, that the efficiency of second causes is a common- 
sense notion, deeply seated in the mind of man. How 
can it be otherwise, if the very notion of a cause is 
acquired in view of some change ? and if this notion, 
when it first arises in the mind, is always connected 
with some particular cause, to which the mind refers as 
the immediate antecedent, and the real producer of the 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 207 

change? For what is this antecedent, this particular 
cause, but something which we denominate a secondary 
cause ? and what the reference which the mind makes to 
it, but a belief of its efficiency ? To say that this refer- 
ence is an error, and always an error, (and the objection 
would be nothing without this,) is to say, thatfrom the 
constitution of our minds we are under the necessity of 
believing a falsehood, as the only means of coming at the 
truth — that is, we must believe in the efficiency of some 
particular cause, or we should never get the notion of a 
cause, nor rise to the abstract conception, that no effect 
can take place without a cause. We cannot pursue this 
subject, or it might, as we think, easily be made to 
appear, that as the idea of causation is introduced into 
the mind by the agency of some secondary cause, so 
without that agency, and the fact of its belief, the mind 
would never acquire the idea of any cause, supreme or 
subordinate, unless imparted by special revelation. 

To suppose, as some have done, that anterior to all expe- 
rience and observation, the mind is somehow possessed 
of the notion of cause and effect, as a general and abstract 
relation, is, in our judgment, beginning at the wrong end, 
as it supposes knowledge in a given case — general and 
abstract knowledge, previous to the appropriate exercise 
of our faculties, and independent of that exercise. That 
is to say, it supposes general and abstract notions, on a 
subject where the mind has never generalized or exer- 
cised its powers of abstraction at all. All analogy, surely, 
goes against this. But if it did not, and we were com- 
pelled to admit that, prior to experience, we possess the 
abstract notion of cause and effect, and that no effect can 
take place without a cause; still it is manifest that our 
knowledge of particular causes, and our belief of their 
efficiency in any given circumstances, is exclusively the 
result of experience and observation. This Dr. Brown 
has shown in the most unanswerable manner, at the 



208 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

same time that he has demonstrated, that without the 
knowledge and belief of particular causes, in the physical 
changes within and around us, we could never rise to 
the knowledge of the Great First Cause, on which all 
other causes depend. 

That this First Cause is only one among many which 
may be supposed, is most certain ; and that men are not 
born with the knowledge and belief of it is equally cer- 
tain ; for the deaf and dumb have no such knowledge 
and belief, even after their faculties have come to matu- 
rity. If men come to the knowledge of God, then, it 
must be in one of two ways — either by a process of 
inductive reasoning, or by special revelation. If by 
the former, they must go from effect to cause, and that 
by steps more or less numerous, till they arrive at a pri- 
mary Cause, the source of all other causes. But how 
shall this process begin, if among the many antecedents 
to the many changes they witness, they recognize no 
particular cause ? Will it be said that the mind natu- 
rally passes at once from some change it has observed 
to the Great First Cause, as the immediate Author 
and Producer of it ? or, after searching in vain for an 
adequate cause, ultimately fastens on him ? This would 
be a surprising leap for the human faculties, and utterly 
incredible if there were no proofs against it ; but the 
case of the deaf and dumb just alluded to, settles the 
question, in our apprehension, that no such thing is 
done, or can be done, by the human mind; nay, far- 
ther, that this is a point never reached by an insulated 
mind, whatever may be the strength of its faculties, or 
whatever its belief with respect to the efficiency of 
second causes. The only probable, and as we think, the 
only possible method of coming to the knowledge of 
God, by a process of reasoning, is by allowing second causes 
to have power, and to be the real producers of changes 
which they apparently produce. This settles, on a firm 






ON SECOND CAUSES. 



209 



basis, the fact of causation, and enables the mind to pro- 
ceed, on the principle of induction, from cause to cause, 
through a series of causes, severally the effect of some 
antecedent one, till it reaches a cause which is underived, 
independent and eternal. Or if the argument for the Di- 
vine existence turn upon design, manifested in the physi- 
cal objects around us, how is this design to be shown, 
but by showing that these objects display a fitness or 
adaptation of means to an end ? But can there be a, fit- 
ness or adaptation of means, where there is no tendency ? 
or any tendency where there is no power ? 

If second causes do nothing they are fitted to do no- 
thing ; a denial of their power is a denial of their fit- 
ness ; and where there is no fitness, but all is arbitrary, 
he must be sharpsighted indeed, who can discern either 
wisdom or design. 

Third. Farther, that second causes are truly efficient, we 
argue from what is involved in the doctrine of perception. 
We glanced at this topic in the preceding Lecture, but it 
is a point of too much importance not to be distinctly 
considered. 

What is perception? According to modern and ap- 
proved writers, it is neither more nor less than the refi- 
erence we make to something external as their cause. 
Reid, Stewart and Payne, agree in this general statement. 
A rose is presented, and I perceive its fragrance — or, in 
other words, I have a certain agreeable sensation, which 
I refer to the rose as its cause. " Observing," says Dr. 
Reid, " that the agreeable sensation is raised when the 
rose is near, and ceases when it is removed, I am led by 
my nature to conclude some quality to be in the rose, 
which is the cause of this sensation." And Mr. Payne, 
speaking of the sensation of fragrance excited by a rose, 
says: "We refer the agreeable fooling to the rose as its 
cause ; the reference is different from the feeling itself — 
and different from the object, or the rose — and the prin- 
14 



210 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



ciple of the mind from which this reference results, is 
the same general principle, whatever that may be, which 
enables us to draw conclusions in other cases ;" that is, 
as I understand him, the reference of which he speaks 
is nothing different from an act of inductive reasoning 
from the facts in the case. 

Am I led, then, by my very nature, to conclude that 
there is some quality in the rose, and that this quality is 
the cause of my agreeable sensation ? then I am com- 
pelled, by my very constitution, to assign a quality to the 
rose, and to regard that quality as the cause of my sen- 
sation. In other words, I am compelled to believe that 
the rose does something, or acts as a cause. Here, then, 
let me say, is one secondary cause at least, and that in 
the physical world, which is admitted to be truly efficient , 
if to do something and to be efficient are not terms of radi- 
cally different import. 

What is true of the rose is true of every other object 
of perception, or of the whole external world. 

There is no one object of sense which does not affect 
us. This affection we call a sensation, and this sensation 
we refer to something without as its cause. And here 
let it be remarked, that we have precisely the same be- 
lief that something without affects us, as we have that 
there is something without. The latter belief depends 
on, or rather is included in, the former. For how came 
we to know or to suspect that there is something without, 
but by supposing or believing that we are affected by 
it, or that it is the cause of our sensations. If our belief 
does not go to this, tell us where it stops. Does it stop 
with the mere fact that we are affected, and that there 
is a cause of this affection ? Then it does not go to an 
external world at all. It amounts to nothing more than a 
sensation, and its cause, without deciding what that cause 
is, something within or something without. But is this the 
testimony of sense, and this our belief of that testimony ? 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



211 



Then, in truth, we have no evidence of an external world, 
and matter, for aught we know, is a mere figment of the 
mind. We cannot avoid this conclusion, but by admit- 
ting that our belief of something without, is inseparably 
connected with a belief that that something affects us, 
which is giving to it all the efficiency we plead for. 

But what if I am unwilling to allow that something 
without really affects me ? The answer is at hand — it 
alters not the fact, nor our unchangeable belief in relation 
to it. Certain it is, that in all our perceptions, we refer 
the corresponding sensations to something without as their 
cause. This reference is belief, and a belief that the objects 
perceived are the causes of the sensations concerned. 

In our apprehension, this argument is decisive in favor 
of the doctrine that second causes have power ; for the 
doctrine is identified with that primary belief which 
sways the mind in all its perceptions of things external. 
Nay, more ; to believe in something external, and yet 
deny its efficiency, is, in some respects, more absurd and 
less defensible than the sceptical doctrine of no external 
world. 

Hence, Dr. Brown has remarked, with reference to 
this theory, " that it is only an awkward and compli- 
cated modification of the system of Berkeley. " It pro- 
fesses to believe in an external world, while this world 
does nothing by which it is or ever can be made known ; 
for it is not the cause of our sen sat ions even. It affirms 
matter to be evident to our senses, while it makes no more 
impression upon our senses than if it really had no being. 
Our knowledge of matter, too, is only what it is relatively 
to us, and yet, relatively to us, it is nothing ; for it affects 
us not at all : all our affections, certainly thoee which are 
external, come immediately from God. Can a system 
marked by such incoherence he founded in truth ? 

Fourth. It is agreed, OH all hands, by those who 
admit the existence of matter, that it is possessed of 



2^2 0N SEC0ND causes. 

certain qualities which distinguish it from mind. But 
what is meant by the qualities of matter, other than the 
powers which it possesses, and which it develops in the 
changes which it produces or undergoes ? The qualities 
of a thing, Dr. Brown has shown, are not different from 
the powers of a thing. They are terms of equivalent 
import, and used interchangeably for each other, except 
that the latter is not so often used with a passive signifi- 
cation as the former. 

With equal propriety we say it is a quality of water 
to melt salt, and that water has the power of melting 
salt ; and though the first of these terms is often em- 
ployed to express the susceptibility of a substance as 
well as the power of a substance, yet, when used actively, 
it is precisely equivalent to the word power, taken in its 
more common and active signification. 

What do we mean, then, when we speak of the quali- 
ties or powers of a substance ? Doubtless, we mean to 
speak of something which belongs to the substance, and 
which is truly predicable of it. Here is an apple. I 
say it is sweet or it is red. What is the import of this 
language ? That the apple possesses certain qualities or 
powers ? Not this only ; but that it possesses qualities 
or powers which affect me. I mean that the apple, when 
applied to my taste, produces the sensation of sweetness, 
and when considered in relation to the organ of vision, 
produces the sensation of color termed redness. What 
else can I mean ? I do not suppose, surely, anything in 
the apple resembling the feelings it occasions in me ; but 
I do suppose it possessed of certain qualities which I 
regard as the causes of my sensations or feelings ; and 
hence, from the influence of the imagination, as well as 
from the poverty of language, I give to these causes and 
to their effects the same names. I say of the apple, it is 
sweet, to signify that it is the cause of a sensation which 
I thus denominate ; I say it is red, to denote that it is the 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 213 

cause, also, of a visual sensation, designated by the term 
redness. 

If this be a correct statement of the case, (and I am 
not aware that it differs from the commonly-received 
opinion,) one of two things must be true ; either that 
there is no foundation for ascribing qualities to the apple, 
or that these qualities are the causes, the real causes of the 
sensations whose names they bear. The case admits of 
no other alternative : for, if qualities mean anything in 
this connection, it will be difficult to say what it is, 
unless it be, that they are productive powers or efficient 
causes. If they mean nothing, we had better abandon 
the term altogether, and use a language more conformable 
to truth. Then we should have substances, but no qual- 
ities — a multitude of cumbrous things to be acted upon, 
(if susceptibility in this case were not also an absurdity,) 
but not one among them all capable of the smallest action 
or reaction. One difficulty, however, might possibly 
occur ; we should not exactly know where to find these 
substances, since upon the present hypothesis, of their 
having no qualities and doing nothing, every conceivable 
means of learning their existence would be removed. 

Fifth. This therefore we allege, in the fifth place, as a 
decisive argument on the question at issue, ff second 
causes do nothing, they affect us nothing ; if they affect 
us nothing, we cannot know that they exist. 

This is Dr. Brown's argument, when he would show 
that material substances are as tnihj causes in their lim- 
ited and humble sphere, as the Deity himself in the 
boundless kingdom which he (ills. The argument is 
short, hiii clear and comprehensive. To myself, I con- 
fess it is exceedingly satisfactory; and though I have 
found ninny who did no! like its conclusion, I have never 
found one who deemed it expedient formally and logi- 
cally to attack it. The reason I take to be obvious; it 



214 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



is too palpable and too cogent to be replied to. I give 
you the illustration of Dr. Brown himself. 

Light affects us in vision, or it does not affect us. If it 
does affect us, it does something — it is the cause of our 
visual sensations. If it does not affect us, then in 
this case it does nothing — it is no cause, and for aught 
we can see, exists for no purpose ; nay, the legitimate 
conclusion would be, that we neither have, nor can have, 
any evidence of its existence, unless it be specifically 
revealed, and revealed alike to every individual; for 
nothing short of this would answer the purpose. 

A slight consideration of this argument is sufficient to 
show, that to deny the efficiency of second causes, is 
virtually to shut matter out of the world ; or, if it be al- 
lowed to exist, that it can exist for no conceivable end, 
unless it be to remind the Deity when to put forth his 
power, and do that which he certainly would do without 
any such memorial. 

On this subject, the language of the author to whom 
we have just alluded, is peculiarly striking.* 

" That which excites in us all the feelings ascribed to 
certain qualities of matter, is matter; and to suppose 
that there is nothing without us which excites these 
feelings, is to suppose that there is nothing without, as 
far we are capable of forming any conception of matter." 
Hence his opinion that the doctrine of "universal and 
spiritual efficiency, in the sequence of physical causes, is 
but an awkward and complicated modification of the 
system of Berkeley." For while it maintains that God 
does all, and matter does nothing, with strange incon- 
sistency it professes to believe that matter exists, though 
no one can see for what end, nor have the least evidence 
of its being. 

To show that second causes are truly efficient, I add 

* Cause and Effect, page 62. 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



215 



but a single consideration more, and that is the mere fact 
of their existence. They either exist, or do not exist. If 
they do not, our inquiry has no object; God alone ex- 
ists, and he alone must have power. If they do exist, 
their existence must be something distinct and separate 
from God, though derived from him. This is equally 
true of matter and of mind. The question we put then, 
is, can we conceive anything to exist without power, 
property or quality, of some kind ? For what is that 
which has neither ? It is known by nothing, it is ca- 
pable of nothing, and we have every reason to think is 
nothing. 

The very existence, therefore, of a substance, sup- 
poses the existence of qualities or powers of some sort. 
But can these be supposed, and yet the substance to 
which they belong do nothing, and be capable of 
nothing ? What are these qualities, when actively con- 
sidered, but so many powers which are efficient in the 
production of change ? If they produce no change, nor 
exert an influence to that end, we cannot know that 
they exist, or the substances of which they are predicat- 
ed. But the point of our remark is, that their very exist- 
ence involves in it the notion of some quality or power, 
inasmuch as it is inconceivable that they should exist 
without. "A substance without qualities," says the in- 
genious writer to whom we have several times referred, 
" if conceived to be an object of knowledge, seems to be 
a contradiction in terms; and the qualities of substances 
are only another name for their power of affecting other 
substances;" and, applying these remarks to material 
substances, lie adds: "Whatever definition Ave may 

give of matter, must always be the enumeration of those 
properties or qualities which it exhibits; and if there 
were no pauH rs, there would truly be nothing to define." 
It is scarcely necessary to say that the case is in no de- 
gree different with regard to mind. 



216 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



We cannot better conclude this Lecture, than in the 
words of Mr. Locke. * "The infinite eternal God is cer- 
tainly the cause of all things — the fountain of all being 
and power. But because all being was from him, can 
there be nothing but God himself? Or, because all 
power was originally in him, can there be nothing of it 
communicated to his creatures ? This is to set very 
narrow bounds to the power of God, and by pretending 
to extend it, takes it away. For which, I beseech you, 
as we can comprehend, is the greatest power : to make a 
machine — a watch for example — that, when the watch- 
man has withdrawn his hands, shall go and strike by the 
fit contrivance of the parts ; or else requires that, when- 
ever the hand by pointing to the hour minds him of it, 
he should strike twelve upon the bell ? 

" No machine of God's making can go of itself. Why ? 
Because the creatures have no power, can neither move 
themselves nor anything else. How, then, comes about 
all that we see ? Do they do nothing ? Yes ; they are 
occasional causes to God why he should produce certain 
thoughts and motions in them. The creatures cannot pro- 
duce any idea or thought in man. How, then, comes he 
to perceive or to think? God, upon the occasion of 
some motion in the optic nerve, exhibits the color of 
a marigold or a rose to his mind. How came that mo- 
tion in his optic nerve ? On occasion of the motion of 
some particles of light striking on the retina, God pro- 
ducing it, and so on. And so, whatever a man thinks, 
God produces the thought, let it be infidelity, murmuring 
or blasphemy. The mind doth nothing ; his mind is only 
the mirror that receives the ideas that God exhibits to 
it, and just as God exhibits them. The man is alto- 
gether passive in the whole business of thinking. A 
man cannot move his arm or his tongue — he has no 

* Search of Truth, pp. 110, ill, hy Dr. Beazeley. 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 217 

power — only upon the occasion, the man willing it — God 
moves it. The man wills, he doth something ; or else 
God, upon the occasion of something he did before, pro- 
duced the will and this action in him. 

"This is the hypothesis that clears all doubts, and 
brings us at last to the religion of Hobbes and Spinoza, by 
resolving all, even the thoughts and will of men, into an 
irresistible and fatal necessity. For whether the ori- 
ginal of it be from the continued motion of all doing 
matter, or from an omnipotent immaterial Being who, 
having begun matter and motion, continues it by the 
direction of occasions which he himself has also made ; 
as to religion and morality, it is just the same thing. 

"But we must know how everything is brought to 
pass, and thus we have resolved it without leaving any 
difficulty to perplex us. But perhaps it would better 
become us to acknowledge our ignorance, than to talk 
such things boldly of the Holy One of Israel, and condemn 
others for not daring to be as unmannerly as ourselves." 
[Locke's reply to Norris, a follower of Malebranche.] 



LECTUEE VIII 



ON SEC OND CAUSES. 



ARE SECOND CAUSES EFFICIENT \ 

The doctrine maintained in the preceding Lectures 
was, that second causes, are causes per se, operating by 
their own inherent energy, and operating as truly in 
their humble spheres, as the Great First Cause in the 
mighty works which he performs. Nor do we suppose 
that this doctrine detracts, in any measure, from the 
Divine wisdom or power. On the contrary, we coincide 
with Mr. Locke, in thinking that the opposite doctrine 
takes away from the power of God, if not from his wis- 
dom : since it denies to him the possibility of imparting 
to his creatures any agency whatsoever, and makes his 
government to consist, not in controlling agents, physical 
or moral, by a system of well adapted means, but in a 
succession of changes, or events produced by his imme- 
diate and sole efficiency. That is to say, he governs 
creatures which do nothing, and which from their very 
constitution can do nothing, and this without any means 
or instrumental causes; for instrumental causes there 
cannot be, where instruments have no power. 

But God, it may be said, can give them power. Be it 
so ; then they are no longer powerless ; they will cer- 
tainly do something, when brought into circumstances 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 219 

adapted to their agency. But what now becomes of the 
theory which denies to creatures universally all power, 
and makes God the sole efficient in every case ? 

It is a curious fact in the history of this controversy, 
that those who espouse the doctrine of the immediate 
and sole efficiency of the Deity, seem to consider it, as 
representing in a more sublime light the Divine omnipo- 
tence, by exhibiting it to our conception as the only 
power in nature. But they might in like manner affirm, 
that the creation of the infinity of worlds, with all the 
life and happiness that are diffused over them, render 
less, instead of more sublime, the existence of Him who, 
till then, was the sole existence; for power that is de- 
rived, derogates as little from the primary power, as 
derived existence derogates from the Being from whom 
it flows."* 

Light, say they, is powerless in vision, and yet they 
are willing to admit that light exists — nay, they are 
strenuous asserters of its existence — and are anxious only 
to prove, in their zeal for the glory of Him that made it, 
and who makes nothing in vain, that this, and all or the 
greater number of his works, exist to no purpose. For 
to what purpose can they exist, if they accomplish 
nothing, nor even make themselves known by any influ- 
ence or agency whatsoever ? " The production of so 
simple a state as that of vision, or any other of the modes 
of perception, with an apparatus which is not merely 
complicated, but in all its complication, absolutely with- 
out efficacy, is so far from adding any sublimity to the 
Divine nature in our conception, that it can scarcely be 

conceived by the mind without lessening in some degree 

the sublimity of the Author of the universe, by lessening, 
or rather destroying, all the sublimity of the universe he 
has made/' 

* Brown on Cau.se and Eilect, ]>j>. G2, 63. 



220 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



Thus reasons Dr. Brown, and so just and forcible is it, 
that it needs no comment of ours to give it effect. But 
let us look at this subject in another point of view; let 
us contemplate it as it stands related to the moral 
responsibility of man. 

It seems to be a common sentiment, equally admitted 
by both parties in this argument, that moral obligation is 
founded upon physical ability ; that is to say, a man must 
have a physical capacity to act agreeably to the law of 
his duty, or he could not be bound to act agreeably to 
that law. This is obviously a common-sense notion, 
nor do any insist upon it with more frequency or with 
more earnestness, than those who make God the only 
efficient cause. Upon this principle it is, that every 
man condemns himself, and condemns his neighbor, 
when he does not act conformably to the rule of 
duty. But can a man be said to have a "physical power 
to act according to the law of duty, if all his acts, 
whether physical or moral, are the immediate produc- 
tion of Omnipotence ? and, of course, are at all times 
just what that Omnipotence makes them ? What is 
physical power or ability ? Is it not something which 
pertains to the agent of whom it is predicated ; some- 
thing which is anterior to action, which jits and capaci- 
tates for action ? But can there be such fitness and 
capacity, where action is impossible, and admitted to be 
so, without a new and Almighty Antecedent ? an ante- 
cedent extrinsic to the agent, and in nowise dependent 
upon what he is, or what he does ? and whose agency 
can never become his. How is the power of action in 
him, when it is admitted, and earnestly contended, that 
it lies out of him, and is in God alone ? Will it be said 
that he has the susceptibility of action, if not the power 
of action; he can be acted upon, and thus made to act, 
and made to act in any given manner ? Suppose it were 
so (though upon the principles of our opponents, that 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 221 

created existence has no qualities, it is as difficult to 
conceive of susceptibility as of power); yet I say, suppose 
it were so — that man has the susceptibility of action — 
though not properly the power — that is, he can be made 
to act when God acts upon him ; how does this help the 
matter as to his physical power ? Is it not seen at once, 
that no such power belongs to him, since his actions flow 
not from what can be found within himself, and in the 
objects which surround him, but from the immediate fiat 
of the Deity. It is this fiat which gives birth to his 
actions ; and without it they have no adequate cause, 
and consequently are impossible, and impossible for the 
want of physical ability. If the want of ability, there- 
fore, be the want of power, who does not see that man 
(according to the philosophy of our opponents) has no 
physical power, as the basis of obligation, or the source 
of his responsibility ? But there is another difficulty 
attending the system which we oppose ; as it provides no 
basis for moral obligation by providing man with physi- 
cal power to act, or not to act, in any given case, so it 
presents a hypothesis which seems adverse to our 
notions of responsibility. For as man cannot act without 
God act upon him, so it would seem he must act when 
acted upon, and act in the very manner in which the 
influence he receives shall direct. When he does right 
and when he does wrong — if right and wrong it could be 
called — it is owing to the positive, immediate and att-con- 
trolling agency of God. And yet he is bound to do the 
one and to avoid the other, notwithstanding this agency, 
if not irrespective of it. He is bound to do right, whether 
God move him to do right or not — though without thai 
moving he has n<> power; and he is bound to avoid the 
wrong, though moved to it by Omnipotence, which would 
transcend his power, it' he had any; but he lias none, 

and since he has none, the absurdity seems the greater, 

that he should be required to avoid that which lie has 



222 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

neither power to do nor to avoid, and that when moved 
to the wrong by a power which is Almighty. This, 
surely, cannot he agreeable to our natural notions of 
things, nor easily reconciled with our acknowledged 
responsibility. 

Is it a mere passive power ? a susceptibility of being 
acted upon ? Then it is like mobility in matter, a capa- 
city of being moved, when a power sufficient is applied 
to move it : it is susceptibility of change, or rather of 
being changed, when an adequate cause is supplied. Is 
this, then, what is meant when it is said that a man has 
physical power to be holy, viz. : that he can be holy if 
God make him so, and that he cannot be holy if God 
does not make him holy ; that he can be sinful, if God 
make him sinful ; and that he can be neither holy nor 
sinful, nor act at all, but from the immediate and irre- 
sistible energy of the Deity ? Wherein does this differ 
from the lowest species of mechanical power ? and why 
is not man, to all intents and purposes, a mere machine, 
if such be the nature of his being ? 

Assuming the fact that man's power is nothing but 
capacity of action, when acted upon ; and it is perfectly 
obvious that he neither will, nor can act, but when he is 
acted upon ; and that he neither will nor can act in any 
other manner than according to the nature and tendency 
of the power which acts upon him. It is not only mor- 
ally but physically impossible that he should act with- 
out this moving power, which lies out of himself; or 
that when he does act, his action should be otherwise 
than it is. In this respect he is like a stone, he can- 
not move unless moved ; and when moved, the motion 
is the mere result of the moving power, and is in every 
respect just what that moving power caused it to be ; 
while it is physically impossible for it to be otherwise. 

Now, if this is the nature of man's physical capacity, 
we should be glad to see it reconciled with his moral 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 223 

accountability. What foundation is there for ought and 
ought not, where it is plainly physically impossible that 
the event should be otherwise than it is ? 

Is a man bound to act in a certain manner, when he 
has not the physical power thus to act without the inter- 
position of Omnipotence ? and even when Omnipotence 
is exerted to make him act in a different manner ? If 
this is true philosophy, I think it will be hard to recon- 
cile it with common sense. Common sense, in accord- 
ance with the Bible, dictates that it is according to what a 
man hath, and not according to what he hath not, that God 
requires of him ; that where much is given much will be 
required, and where little is given little will be required. 

But it never supposes obligation where nothing is 
given, or which amounts to the same thing, where 
there is no physical power. In all cases it graduates a 
man's obligation by his physical powers and opportu- 
nities. It supposes that when a man acts wrong, he 
had at the same moment the physical power of acting 
right, and upon this power founds his obligation to have 
acted right. Let any one consult his own mind, wiien 
he has committed a wrong action, and what is the voice 
of nature in his bosom ? Why, that he might have acted 
otherwise ; that he had the physical power of acting 
otherwise, and therefore ought so to have acted. On 
this ground alone, he condemns himself for having acted 
as lie has done. But remove this basis of obligation, and 
let him believe once that lie had not the physical power 
to have done differently, and all sense of blame would 
instantly vanish. He would no more condemn himself, 
for what has eommonl y been considered a wrong action, 
than for hitting his head against a post in a dark night, 

or falling down a precipice, when compelled byapower 

external to himself. This fact is so obvious that nobody 
seems to doubt it It is agreed On all hands that there 



224 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

must be physical power to right moral action, or there 
can be no obligation to such action. 

But what is it, we ask again, for a man to possess this 
power ? We all go upon the principle that man has it, 
or he would not be a moral agent. Can we tell what it 
is ? Is it the mere capacity of being excited to action, 
as the power external to him shall direct — that is, the 
capacity of being the subject of an action, just as a ball 
is a subject of a motion given to it by a force from with- 
out ? If this is all, then man has power to do nothing 
but what he actually does; all his actions are physi- 
cally necessary — the mere result of some power extrin- 
sic to himself. Perhaps, however, it will be said, this is 
not all. It is not intended to consider man as the mere 
passive receiver of the action of another, but as becom- 
ing active himself in consequence of receiving that ac- 
tion. But in what sense does he become active ? His 
action is the mere product of another's power, and the 
necessary product; just as much as the motion of a 
wheel is the product of the power applied to it. The 
wheel may be very active in consequence of this power, 
and may be instrumental in giving motion or action to 
other wheels connected with it ; still it is necessary ac- 
tion, the result of physical agency out of itself. It is 
physically impossible it should not act as it does. If 
there is any difference between the man and the wheel 
tell us where it lies. Both are moved by a power ex- 
trinsic to themselves, and by a necessity strictly physi- 
cal. For it is admitted that man has not the physical 
power of acting, but as he is acted upon, and that his 
action is the necessary result of his being thus acted 
upon. True, it may be said, but his action is different 
in its nature from the action of a wheel — it is intelligent 
and voluntary action. Be it so, it is not the less neces- 
sary, not the less physically impossible it should be 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 225 

otherwise than it is ; for it is the immediate and neces- 
sary result of an extrinsic power or agency, which he is 
physically unable to control. It is not true, when he has 
acted in one particular manner, that he had the physical 
power to have acted in another particular manner ; for 
his powder to act, is to act when acted upon, and to act 
in such a manner only as the power which acts upon 
him directs. 

A wheel by its construction, let us suppose, is equally 
fitted to turn towards the east or towards the west, but it 
can turn neither way unless a power is applied which is 
external to itself. Is it conceivable that this power can 
be applied without determining the direction of its mo- 
tion ? If motion is given to it, it will be either to the 
east or to the west ; but which of the two must depend 
on the application of the power. The power is applied, 
and it turns towards the east : is it not physically im- 
possible, under exactly the same application of power — 
the same in manner, not in measure — that it should turn 
to the w 7 est ? For whether it shall move at all, and 
what shall be the direction of the motion, are both alike 
infallibly connected with the application of some external 
moving force. 

Now, is the mind of man such a w T heel ? If it is, it is 
perfectly certain that it has physical power to do only 
what it does; for both its action and the character of 
its action equally depend on, and are infallibly con- 
nected with/ the power which nets opera It, and which 
is extrinsic to itself. I will not say, though many will 
s;iv it, that there can bo neither virtue nor vice, if this 
notion of man's dependence and agency he correct; but 
I will Bay, that it destroys the doctrine maintained by 
some, that man bttfl a physical power of counteract ing 
God's decrees, and of doing differently from what he 

does. It introduces ;i necessity into OUT actions of a 
perfectly physical character, since it supposes them to 
15 



226 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

depend on nothing within us, but on something wholly 
extrinsic to ourselves, and, so far as it is either supposed 
or believed, can scarcely fail to diminish a sense of our 
responsibility. But, happily for the cause of virtue, let 
men speculate upon this subject as they may, there is in 
every bosom a strong internal sense of right and wrong — 
a conviction that nothing can eradicate that we ought 
to act in one way rather than another ; while this sense 
of obligation always presupposes some idea of physical 
power or ability to act in conformity to the rule of duty, 
and wherever this idea of power is wanting, there all 
sense of obligation ceases. An absolute physical neces- 
sity never was, and we think never can be, reconciled 
with the notion of moral obligation. 

But how, it may be asked, shall we avoid this diffi- 
culty ? Is not man dependent for his existence and all 
his powers ? and if dependent the first moment of his 
existence, why not the second, and every succeeding 
moment ? And if thus dependent, how can he act un- 
less acted upon, or made to act by the immediate agency 
of God. This is thought to be a very cogent argument, 
and often relied upon with much confidence by those 
who employ it. Our reply is, man is indeed dependent 
for his existence, because that existence is derived from 
his Creator ; and he is dependent for the continuance 
of his existence, because he will either continue or cease 
to be, as his Creator's will determines. So long as the 
creature is in the hands of God, to do with him as he 
will — to modify his being — to prolong or to annihilate it 
at pleasure — he may justly^be said to be dependent on 
God. He not only received all from God, but he holds 
all, through every period of his existence, on the sove- 
reign pleasure of his Maker. But this is not the kind 
of dependence which our opponents plead for. Man, 
say they, came into being by the immediate and positive 
efficiency of God, as did every other creature. In the 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



227 



first and indivisible moment of his being, he depended 
on the immediate influx of the Divine power; and if thus 
dependent the first moment, why not the second, and 
the third, and as long as his being shall remain ? Ah, 
why not ? If creation and preservation were certainly 
the same thing, there would be more plausibility in this 
reasoning. But who can show this to be the fact ? 
Philosophy, I am persuaded, can never do it; and the 
Scriptures are too indefinite in their testimony to au- 
thorize any such conclusion. They assert, indeed, that 
God upholds all things by the word of his power ; but 
how he upholds they do not say — whether simply by 
preserving the forms of existence, keeping every order 
distinct, and maintaining that succession, subordination 
and harmony which his eternal wisdom designed, and 
thus including the idea of government — or by preventing 
things, even the first principles of things, from falling 
back into their primitive nothingness. The Scriptures 
are not sufficiently explicit to settle these points; and 
if they were, and we knew that the last idea suggested 
was intended, the subject would still be open to inquiry, 
whether preservation is a continued creation, as some 
have imagined, or whether it is what the word more 
naturally signifies, a mere upholding or continuing in 
being the first principles of things, with all their powers. 
But we are not anxious to decide upon any of these 
matters. Let it be conceded, for the sake of narrowing 
the ground of controversy, that Cod's power is innne- 
diate in upholding and prolonging the existence of crea- 
tures. What, follows | Not that they cannot act when 
thus upheld with all their powers, and act without his 
superadded agency. The truth is, they cannot fail to 

act, if their very existence involve powers, as on a former 

occasion we attempted to show. Their properties, w hat- 
ever they may he, when actively Considered, are hut SO 
many powers and modes of acting, which necessarily 



228 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

flow from the nature of their being, and which can neither 
he altered nor diminished hut by changing their essence 
or relations. If you give existence, then, you give power : 
if you prolong existence, you prolong power, which will 
certainly operate as often as appropriate occasion occurs 
— that is, as often as the substances to which they belong 
are brought into circumstances fitted to develop their 
powers. 

To apply this reasoning to the existence of man. By 
the very constitution of his being, he is a rational and 
voluntary agent. If he exist at all, with such a nature 
or constitution as he has, he will act, and act according 
to his rational and voluntary powers. Having the capa- 
city of thought, he will think ; having the capacity of 
reasoning, he will reason ; having the capacity of feeling, 
he will feel ; of choosing and refusing, he will choose or 
refuse. It is impossible that he should exist such as he 
is, without exhibiting such properties and powers as are 
essential to his being; nor can he fail to manifest any 
of the peculiar attributes of his nature, whenever the 
appropriate circumstances arise. He needs not the 
action of any other being to enable him to act, for he 
has this ability in the very existence he has received, 
and will continue to have it while his existence and 
powers remain unimpaired. Activity belongs to his na- 
ture; and it is as absurd to suppose that he will not act, 
as that a percipient being will not perceive, or a sentient 
being not feel, when their powers are met with their 
appropriate objects. It is, in short, the very same thing. 
If a man with perfect organs of vision open his eyes 
upon the sun, will he not see it ? If two and two are 
presented to his min<J as an object of comparison, will he 
not perceive their equality ? If he be asked whether 
the whole be greater than a part, will he not answer in 
the affirmative ? Can he be a percipient and rational 
being, and his powers in these circumstances not be ex- 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



229 



erted ? Or is it necessary to the exercise of his powers, 
that he should be acted upon by a power extrinsic to 
himself? That is to say, though he has the power to 
perceive, to think, to reason, yet he can do neither but by 
a power superadded, and which is in no respects his 
own ? This is to give and to take ad libitum. It is to 
assert and deny the same powers, at the same time ; or, 
in other words, it is to adopt the absurd notion of power- 
less powers. There is, we apprehend, no mistake here, 
unless it could be shown that to think, to reason, to feel, 
are not properties essential to the mind. We admit, in- 
deed, that the mind can no more think, without an ob- 
ject of thought, than the eye can see without an object 
of vision ; that is to say, if the mind thinks, it must 
think of something, and if the eye sees, it must doubt- 
less see something. But the point more immediately 
concerned in the present discussion is, can the mind fail 
to think when an object is presented to its attention, any 
more than the eye to see, when it is opened to the land- 
scape in the beams of the noontide sun ? It is evidently 
impossible ; for the very presentation of an object sup- 
poses thought, in some of its diversified forms. They 
must have a strange notion of mind, who suppose it ca- 
pable of existing without thinking, and stranger still, 
who suppose it invested with the noblest powers of per- 
ceiving, judging, willing — powers which enter into its 
very constitution — and yet powers which cannot be put 
forth, without the immediate exertion of Omnipotence to 
bring them into action. But the absurdity of this view 
has already been exposed. 

There arc two objections, however, which are some- 
times made to the ground which we have taken, and 
which, perhaps, may deserve some notice: One is, that 

unless we admit God to he the immediate and efficient 

cause of our mental acts, and of OUT volitions among the 



230 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

rest, we have an effect without a cause. And the other 
is, that our doctrine of creature efficiency removes crea- 
tures from under the control of the great Supreme. As 
to the first of these objections, that unless all events are 
produced by the immediate agency of the Deity, we 
have an effect without a cause, I frankly acknowledge 
that I can see no foundation for it. 

If, indeed, it be taken for granted that second causes 
have no power, I admit that such a consequence would 
naturally follow. For as God, upon this principle, is the 
only efficient in the universe, whatsoever is not caused 
by his agency plainly can have no cause. But we are 
not quite ready to concede the fact that second causes 
have no power. We are much inclined to believe that 
the contrary has been made somewhat evident ; and at 
any rate, it is not a consequence to be charged to our 
principles, that if second causes have power, then we 
shall have effects without a cause. For where is the 
absurdity, I ask, in supposing that the creature is the 
proximate cause of his own actions ? that he truly begins 
them ? or, if you like the terms better, that they arise 
out of the nature of his being and the relations he bears 
to other beings, without the immediate intervention of 
his Creator 1 If he is a cause in any case, why may he 
not be the cause of his own actions ? You see before 
you an elegant book ; it awakens your curiosity to know 
something of its contents ; and as there is nothing to 
impede your gratification, you take it into your hand, 
open it, and glance your eye over its pages. Here are 
several acts, all your own, proceeding from the powers 
you possess, and occasioned by the striking and agreea- 
ble appearance of the book which lies before you. From 
first to last, what is there here, for which you are not 
possessed of adequate powers ? powers belonging to your 
being and essential to your very constitution ? What 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 231 

we maintain is, that man was made with a capacity for 
all this ; that it is essential to his nature thus to perceive, 
desire, will, act ; and that he would not he the same being 
that he now is, if he were not possessed of these powers 
and capable of these acts. These acts flow from his 
being and the circumstances in which he is placed, just 
as any effect flows from its cause. They are, therefore, 
not without cause, nor without an immediate and effi- 
cient cause. They proceed from the man, and from the 
objects which surround him ; and the man and the ob- 
jects proceed from the power of God. 

But how can God govern man, if man act without the 
immediate and positive efficiency of God ? May he not 
take a course which God cannot foresee ? or, if he fore- 
see, which he cannot prevent, without breaking in upon 
the harmony of his works ? We answer, that we see 
no difficulty here. Man always acts under the influ- 
ence of motive, when he acts voluntarily ; and when he 
does not act voluntarily, he acts under the influence of 
causes, either within or without, which are adapted to 
his various powers and susceptibilities. These causes are 
all known, measured and appointed, by the Divine wis- 
dom, and their influence is just what God expected 
and intended. Everything, therefore, goes on accord- 
ing to the Divine counsel ; and, so far as this state- 
ment is concerned, according to a previous arrange- 
ment in the unsearchable wisdom and boundless power 
of the Great First Cause. Man, in these circumstances, 
will neither do anything, nor forbear to do anything, 

winch had not been purposely provided lor in the nature 
of his being and in the objects which surround him. 
God's government, on this principle, cannot be less com- 
prehensive, nor less efficient, than if every event in the 
universe was the result of his immediate interposition. 
Nor, to our conception, would it he a government lesi 



232 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

wonderful and glorious, as it would be a government of 
unfathomable calculation and foresight ; a government of 
means beyond all comprehension numerous and diversi- 
fied, and yet perfectly adapted to the nature of his crea- 
tures, and issuing in the most grand and desirable results. 

But whether such a government is possible is more 
than reason can determine. So numerous are the trains 
of antecedents and consequences, crossing each other in 
every direction, that we know not whether it be physi- 
cally possible, in all cases, to produce -the best issue, 
without the immediate interposition of the all-wise Cre- 
ator and Governor. It is wiser and safer, therefore, we 
think, and somewhat more scriptural to conclude, that 
as all creatures and things are absolutely in God's hands, 
to modify their influence at pleasure, that he does often 
interpose, and make the result otherwise than it would 
be, if secondary agents were left entirely to their own 
native tendencies or powers. 

But take which view we please, we see nothing in the 
doctrine, that second causes are causes per se, which in- 
terferes in the least with the most absolute control of 
the Supreme Being, in the world of matter and in the 
world of mind. 

After all, it may be said, what difference does it make 
whether second causes have power or not, since it is ad- 
mitted that, if they have power, that power is derived 
from the Great First Cause, and will always be exercised 
in such manner only as to fulfill his wise and eternal coun- 
sels ? Why may we not as well suppose that all things 
are done by his immediate agency, as that any of them 
are done by his creatures, since his power was originally 
necessary to their power, and since they are but instru- 
ments to execute his pleasure ? So far as moral charac- 
ter is concerned, is it not the same thing to accomplish 
a result by subordinate agents, as to accomplish it with 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 



233 



one's own hand ? To this we reply, that the difference 
is great, in our apprehension; first, as it relates to a mat- 
ter of fact — and secondly, as it concerns the moral char- 
acter of God. 

(1.) It makes a great difference in point of fact, or 
as it respects the nature and order of the universe. 
In the one case we have creatures who are distinct 
and separate from their Creator — real, positive beings, 
with their appropriate powers — beings which are not 
God, but the workmanship of God, called into existence 
by his sovereign power, and continued in existence by 
his almighty agency immediately exerted, or by the 
constitution given to them in the very act of creation. 
In the other case, we have, strictly speaking, no creatures, 
but only a succession of events, immediately produced 
by the agency of the Deity ; a supposition full of inex- 
plicable difficulties, overturning all our notions of matter 
and mind, and of the relations which subsist between 
creatures and their Creator; a supposition equally incom- 
patible with the physical and moral government of God, 
and which, if pursued to its legitimate results, could 
scarcely fail to land us in the most absolute and deplora- 
ble scepticism. 

(2d.) It makes a great difference, also, as it concerns 
the moral character of God. For if second causes have 
no power, then they do nothing, and all is done by the 
immediate agency of the Great First Cause ; or, \\ Inch 
is the same thing, God is the door of nil that is done in 
the universe, whether it be good or evil. But can such 

a doctrine ho received for a moment I Who is prepared 

to say, that, the action of every moral being, if being 

there can be, other thnn God himself, is only the action of 

the Great Supreme 1 that nothing is done m heaven 
above, or in the earth beneath, or in the \\ aters under the 
earth, but what, is done by Ins power immediately ex- 



234 0N SECOND CAUSES. 

erted ; and when done, is referrible to him as its only 
efficient cause ? Surely, there must be some things done 
which neither God nor holy creatures can do. There 
are many falsehoods told, many deceitful and ensnaring 
motives presented, many acts of injustice and cruelty 
performed, any one of which, to ascribe to God, would 
be little less than blasphemy. Take the case of false- 
hood. Does it make no difference, whether God or man 
pronounce it ? Man may, and often does pronounce it ; 
but with God it is impossible, as it is in direct opposition 
to his immutable rectitude. We want no assistance from 
metaphysics to perceive in a moment that it is not the 
same thing for an act to be done by a creature of God, 
and to be done by God himself. The things are as 
widely separated, as if the creature was underived in 
his being, or as if, in his actions, he accomplished no 
design of the Almighty, or was able to defeat his pur- 
poses. He acts by virtue of his own powers, and under 
his own proper responsibility ; and the morality of his 
actions is ascribable to himself, and to himself only. But 
there could be no truth in this statement, if the creature 
were not an agent distinct and separate from God, and 
a moral agent possessing powers adapted to moral action. 
Say that the creature has powers, and he will certainly 
do something, unless his powers are powerless powers, 
which is an absurdity. Deny that he has powers, and 
you assert that God does all — all that is right, and all 
that is wrong in the universe. If an ensnaring motive is 
presented, be it ever so false or so foul, it is God who 
presents it, for the creature can do nothing, because he 
is powerless. If this motive is cherished or embraced, 
it is not the creature who cherishes or embraces it, for 
this is to do something, and something, of course, which 
requires power of some kind ; but the creature has ab- 
solutely none, and he, it would seem, must be absolutely 



ON SECOND CAUSES. 235 

nothing, God and his acts constituting the sum of all 
being. 

Note. It should be stated, in justice to the author, that to the original manu- 
script was prefixed the following note : 

" There may be natural power to a thing, where there is not all the power 
necessary to the existence of that thing. In some instances, moral power also 
is requisite, and where this is the case, natural or physical power, be it ever so 
great, is but a conditioned power, and cannot, of itself, be a power absolute or an 
adequate cause. It is only a power if. Enough it may be, of that sort of power, 
but not enough, in all the circumstances of the case, to make sure of the proposed 
or contemplated effect." 



LECTURE IX. 



ON THE FALL OF MAN 



Were it possible to consider the scriptural account of 
the fall, apart from all human philosophy, I should think 
it extremely desirable. First, it would evince a proper 
disposition on our part to submit to the testimony of God; 
and, secondly, it would be likely to conduct us to a true 
and safe result. But in present circumstances, I know not 
that this can well be expected. Every man has his own 
philosophy, and he can hardly escape its influence if he 
would. Insensibly to himself, and almost necessarily , he 
brings it to bear on the interpretation of the sacred text, 
and hence such a variety of interpretations of passages 
relating to the subject before us. God speaks plainly 
enough, not, indeed, in the language of a deep and recon- 
dite philosophy, but in a language adapted to the com- 
mon apprehension of men, as all parties admit; and 
hence all parties appeal to the Sacred Word as both ob- 
vious and decisive. It requires but little observation, 
however, to perceive the influence of a previous philos- 
ophy in giving meaning and emphasis to the Divine 
record. If its literal sense does not accord with the doc- 
trine or opinion to be supported, then it must be under- 
stood figuratively. If the figurative sense be obnoxious, 
then a literal sense must be maintained, whatever seem- 
ing probabilities lie against it. Sometimes the untoward 



ON THE FALL OF MAX. 237 

passage must be treated as elliptical, and sometimes as 
redundant, as the necessity of the case may seem to de- 
mand. Nor does the ingenious expositor find it difficult 
to show that the soundest rules of criticism have pro- 
vided for exactly his mode of interpretation. The con- 
sequence is, it avails little for two theorists to sit down 
and shoot texts at each other, while each is strong in 
(the principles of) his philosophy, and possessed of the 
ordinary skill of modifying and interpreting the language 
of Holy Writ. The free and popular language of the 
Bible, though the best that could be devised for the pur- 
poses intended, gives ample scope for this species of 
dialectics. A mere glance at the controversies which 
have been going on in the Christian world, from time 
immemorial, is abundantly sufficient to justify these 
remarks. Their correctness, indeed, is evinced from our 
every days' experience, where any religious topic is 
made the subject of debate. Nor is it probable that 
soon, if ever, it will be otherwise. Our philosophy, right 
or wrong, takes a powerful hold of us, and gives com- 
plexion to the results of our theological inquiries. We 
may regret that it is so ; we may put ourselves upon 
our guard against it ; but while we have the common 
infirmities of humanity, I fear we shall never be willing, 
with the perfect simplicity of children, to hear God 
speak, and to take our notions of revealed truth exclu- 
sively from his lips. 
We might derive an argument from this statement to 

review our philosophy, and to do OUT \ery utmost to 
place it upon a sure foundation, knowing the influence 

it is likely to exert, imperceptibly to ourselves, in our 
interpretations of the Boob of God. But I choose only 
to say, let as beware of that philosophizing and specu- 
lative spirit which sometimes renders us proud and uii- 

teachable, unwilling to submit our understandings to the 
clear and unequivocal void of Scripture, unless it happen 



238 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

to coincide with our preconceived opinions, or with the 
philosophical grounds upon which those opinions rest. 
God is undoubtedly right in what he says, whether our 
reasonings be so or not ; and it must be our highest wis- 
dom, as well as duty, to yield an implicit faith to his de- 
clarations, whenever fairly made out to us. Nor have I 
any fear that you will not all cheerfully subscribe to this 
sentiment. But as we are now entering upon a subject 
which has long been controverted, and may be difficult 
to settle — a subject on which various philosophical sys- 
tems have been made to bear, without coming to a sat- 
isfactory result — it seemed not wholly inappropriate to 
suggest the importance of special attention to the Divine 
record, while we examine the circumstances and inquire 
into the causes of man's fall. 

That this event occurred solely through the instru- 
mentality of second causes, we think there is much rea- 
son to believe. But when we say this, we do not mean 
to deny, but admit, God's wise ordering and control in 
the case. We do not suppose it happened because he 
could not prevent it without intrenching upon the moral 
liberty of man, but because for wise and holy reasons he 
deemed it best not to prevent it, though perfectly in his 
power. It is our purpose to say that we see no evidence 
of any immediate, positive and direct, agency of God in 
this matter, and, on the other hand, that we find no 
proof that he forbore any agency, or suspended any in- 
fluence in the moment of man's apostacy, which he is 
known to have exerted previous to that event. We 
suppose that this lamentable occurrence was produced 
by the influence of second causes alone, unconnected 
with any immediate and special agency of the Deity, 
either positive or negative. But before offering our rea- 
sons for this opinion, it will be necessary to advert for a 
moment to the doctrine of second causes, as held by two 
distinct classes of theologians. One class maintain that 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 239 

second causes are causes per se ; that they actually do 
what they seem to do, by a power which is lodged in 
their very being ; and that this power is as truly their 
power, as the power of the Great First Cause is his ; a 
power derived and dependent, indeed, and subject to 
any modifications which the Supreme Power may or- 
dain; yet, in the little sphere which it occupies, it is 
truly efficient, accomplishing what it appears to accom- 
plish, whether in the physical or moral world. 

The other class maintain that second causes are the 
mere antecedents or signs of their consequents, having 
no efficiency or productive power in themselves ; or, if 
you please, that they are regular and stated antecedents 
to regular and stated consequents ; but have no power 
or efficiency in producing their several results, this power 
being found in the constant agency of God. Of course, 
they merely indicate the stated manner of the Divine 
operation, which, however, is immediate and direct. In 
truth, God does all, and they do nothing. Yet partly 
for convenience sake, and partly with a view to fall into 
the common way of speaking, they are denominated 
causes, and their regular consequents are denominated 
effects. But no more is meant by these terms, than that 
the antecedents and consequents in any series of events 
are statedly and uniformly conjoined. Hence, in strictness 
of speech, according to this system, the relation of cause 
and effect is nothing more than the relation of antece- 
dent and consequent — a relation, however, which is uni- 
form and invariable. According to the one system, when 
it is said that an event lias occurred through the instru- 
mentality of second causes, ;iiid second causes only, it is 
Obviously meant that the Great I'irst Cause did not in- 
terpose to vary the result in any degree, but, left these 
causes to work their appropriate effect, according to 
their own natural and intrinsic power, so that where 



240 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

these second causes are the same, the result will uni- 
formly be the same. 

According to the other system, when it is said that an 
event has taken place through the instrumentality, or by 
means of second causes only, the meaning plainly is, that 
the course of nature is not departed from ; the same an- 
tecedent is followed by the same consequent, according 
to that law of Divine operation which gives uniformity 
to the sequency of things, the same natural causes being 
constantly conjoined with the same natural effects. But 
though the immediate and constant agency of God is 
here fully recognized, and recognized as that which 
constitutes the whole energy of nature, really producing 
all the changes we see ; yet no advocate of this philoso- 
phy, when inquiring into the causes of things, ever thinks 
of saying that God is the cause, unless he supposes a 
departure from the uniform course of nature. The object 
of his inquiry always is, to ascertain what is the imme- 
diate and invariable antecedent in any given change, 
and when he has discovered it, he says that is the cause, 
using the word cause, however, in the sense which his 
philosophy requires. Were I to ask him what is the 
cause of the irregularity of my watch, either in going 
too fast or too slow, or occasionally in not going at all, 
he would never think of saying to me, it is owing to the 
interposition of God, or it is to be ascribed to his almighty 
agency. Such an answer, it is obvious, would convey 
no idea at all, or it would convey a false idea. For 
though it might be true that the Divine agency was 
concerned in the event, either more immediately or re- 
motely, yet this is not the thing inquired after, unless, 
indeed, we were looking out for a miracle. The object 
of inquiry is some natural cause ; and yet, not whether 
it is a cause per se, but whether there be some natural 
cause, and what it is which has occasioned the irregu- 
larity of the watch. The same thing holds true, with 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 241 

respect to every other occurrence in the physical or 
moral world, whose immediate antecedent or proximate 
cause is sought. It would be absurd to resort to the 
immediate act of God for the explanation of any phe- 
nomenon, except where no second cause can be found, 
and where the event obviously takes place contrary to 
the settled order of things. Suppose a man had changed 
his politics or religion, and the event was to be accounted 
for, what would be the course which a man of common 
sense would take ? He would doubtless apply himself 
to the acknowledged principles of human action ; that 
is, to those circumstances and facts which are known to 
influence the mind in such cases, and which he may 
ascertain were present in this case. And when he had 
satisfied himself of the appropriate antecedent or ante- 
cedents in the case, he would tell you what he believed 
was the cause. But he would never say that God was 
the cause, unless he supposed the change was miracu- 
lous, and could not be accounted for by a reference to 
second causes and the settled order of things. 

We have made this statement of the two systems of 
philosophy, with regard to cause and effect, and espe- 
cially of the use of the term cause, when secondary and 
subordinate causes are referred to, for the purpose of 
having it clearly understood what we mean, when we 
say that man fell from his primitive state through the 
instrumentality of second causes. We mean not at all 
to raise the question whether those causes are causes 
per §6 Or not ; but let tliis question he decided as it may, 
our doctrine is, that the fall of man was brought ahout 

by the appropriate influence of second causes only. 

Make what you please rf a second cause — let tin 4 influ- 
ence ascribed to it arise from what source it may, the 

nature given it, by its Creator, or the positive efficiency 

of the Deity — still, if in any sense it, he a cause, and in 
any case it can be referred to as the ground or reason of 

16 



242 0N TH] ? FALL 0F MAN - 

any change, then we are prepared to say, that man fell 
from his primitive state through the influence of second 
causes, and second causes only. We advocate this doc- 
trine in the 

First place, from the fact that no other causes are 
mentioned in the account which God has given us of the 
fall. The account is briefly this. After stating to us the 
happy condition of our first parents, as made in the Divine 
image and placed in the garden of Eden, the garden of 
delights, with no other restriction, as to their enjoyments, 
hut what concerned the interdicted tree, it informs us that 
Satan appeared to the woman in the form of a seraph or 
serpent, and by deceitful and ensnaring motives, prevailed 
upon her to take and eat of the forbidden fruit. Her 
husband, through her instrumentality, followed her ex- 
ample, and thus they fell from their primitive rectitude 
into a state of moral degradation and ruin. I enter not 
at all now into the subtle nature of the temptation, nor 
into the peculiar circumstances and constitution of man, 
which opened a door to the temptation, and rendered 
him susceptible of its influence ; but merely remark, what 
I presume will not be denied, that no one circumstance 
mentioned in the train presents us with anything but a 
secondary cause, in distinction from the Great First Cause. 
The facts, indeed, are remarkable, particularly that of the 
serpent's conversing with the woman, and which we 
have supposed to be Satan, that old serpent, the devil, 
who, on this occasion, assumed the form of a serpent, 
the better to accomplish his artful and malignant design. 
But even this, if we take the Scriptural account of Satan, 
is nothing beyond his power. From first to last, we have 
a train of antecedents and consequents, no otherwise 
connected or combined than what we might have ex- 
pected in the natural order of things. 

There is no appearance of any special Divine interpo- 
sition — nothing which might lead us to suppose that God 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 243 

did anything or forbore to do anything at the moment 
Adam sinned, which he did not do or forbear to do at 
any moment immediately preceding. Certain it is, that 
nothing of this kind is so much as glanced at in the 
history ; which is the more remarkable, if anything of 
this kind did exist, since this is the only formal and dis- 
tinct account we have of the circumstances of the apos- 
tacy in the Bible. There are several brief allusions to 
it in the sacred writings, but they are all founded upon 
this statement made of it by Moses, and add not a par- 
ticle to his account. 

Has God, then, or has he not — for we are to remember 
that this is God's account — has he given us in this recital 
all the leading facts in the case ? enough fully to account 
for an event deplorable in itself, and of such gloomy in- 
terest to the whole human family ? Or are we to believe 
that a very important item has been omitted, and one 
which we must collect from other sources, or the event 
of the fall remain forever inexplicable ? I acknowledge, 
for one, I am not exactly willing to believe this. It strikes 
me as something like an impeachment of the Divine 
wisdom and goodness. For why were the facts in the 
case presented to us at all, but to instruct us ? and how 
can they answer this design, unless they are full enough 
to account for the awful result which occurred ? To niv 
own mind, this is a powerful reason lor believing that we 
have the vjhole story, and not a part of it, in the third 
chapter of Genesis — every feet, I mean, which LS essen- 
tial to a rational solution of the apnstacy. To suppose 
otherwise, is to suppose a lame account, given by the 

infinitely-wise moral Governor, of a transaction in which 

blSOWn honor was deeply concerned, and the interests 

of millions of immortal beings. \\\\\ if this reasoning he 

just, then second causes only were immediately con- 
cerned in producing the fall, for no others are mentioned 

as acting in the case. I say immediately concerned, Tor 



244 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

it is not denied that God himself, the Great First Cause, 
was remotely concerned. It was a part of his counsel, 
and the second causes in the case owed their existence 
to him, with all their powers, and to him it belonged to 
bound or restrain their influence at pleasure. 

Perhaps, however, it will be said, if we take the 
account given in the third of Genesis as a full statement 
of the case, and we are not allowed to travel beyond it 
for a solution of the difficulties presented, we must, after 
all, remain in the dark ; for the facts here given do not 
account for the fall of man. Sound philosophy will never 
consent to admit, that a holy creature, as Adam was, 
could be induced, by any motive presented to his mind, 
to swerve from the path of rectitude, unless, in connec- 
tion with the motive, an influence be exerted by the 
Author of his being, which should incline his heart to 
yield. I shall not stop here to examine the principles 
of this philosophy, but I would simply ask on what it is 
founded ? Has it facts for its basis ? If so, where are 
they ? A philosophy without facts, will go but a little way 
with a sober and earnest inquirer. How often has the 
experiment been made with holy beings in the condition 
of Adam, in order to determine the force of a temptation, 
and thus to ascertain the connection there is between 
an ensnaring motive, and the seduction aimed at by him 
who presents it? Our first parents fell before the power 
of such a motive, if the history of their fall can be de- 
pended upon as a full and adequate history. Does any- 
body know that it is not full and adequate ? that all the 
causes are not named — or all that are material ? Who 
is prepared to say that the natural order of second causes 
was either interrupted or violated ? that the temptation 
and the sin did not stand to each other in the relation 
of cause and effect, as much as any other two events in 
the material or spiritual world, and that, too, by a law 
as settled and as uniform ? We had better examine a 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 245 

little, and see how far our knowledge extends on this 
subject, before we set up our philosophy to bear against 
the fullness or accuracy of the sacred record. 

But I want to know, says a man strong in his previous 
beliefs, how angels fell ? There was no devil there to 
tempt them, or none that we read of. Must not God 
have changed the order of his providence in relation to 
them, as the cause of a change in their character ? or in 
other words, must he not have brought a new influence 
to bear upon them by his immediate agency as the pro- 
ducing cause of their apostacy ? 

My answer is, God has not vouchsafed to tell us one 
word upon the subject, except the mere fact that they 
kept not their first estate; and as for our experience, it 
does not reach to such ancient and sublime matters. We 
are profoundly ignorant of the special circumstances of 
their being, and of the occasion of their fall; and we 
shall remain ignorant, notwithstanding all our specula- 
tions, till light is poured upon us from the invisible world. 
We may conjecture and argue, and argue and conjec- 
ture, till our heads turn round, but we shall never be 
able to advance a single step towards solving the problem 
of their apostacy, till we have facts and the circumstances 
of facts. We can say it took place under the wise 
ordering of Providence, and according to God's eternal 
counsels; we can say. perhaps, that God purposed it, and 
that what he purposes nc\er fails of its end. But after 
all, how it took place, we cannot tell; what were the 
Circumstance* which led to it, whether in the minds of 

the angels themselves, or in things which were about 

them, we know not. The most we know is, that though 
once holy, they are now sinful which is no slender 

proof that creature holiness is mutable, unless confirmed 

and sustained by the power and goodness of the Creator, 

But why, it may be asked, did not all the angels fall, 

after the apostacy among them had commenced I 1 answer, 



246 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

I know not, nor can any mortal tell me. There was, 
doubtless, a reason: either the peculiar circumstances 
in which they were placed in relation to those who did 
apostatize so as to prevent the influence of their exam- 
ple, or some new cause or circumstance was made to 
hear upon them, by God's immediate interposition, or 
otherwise, which was sufficient to dissipate the force of 
temptation if presented ; but what this cause or reason 
was, lies utterly beyond the reach of our powers to ascer- 
tain, and mere conjecture on the subject is useless. 
The fall of angels, therefore, is an event too remote from 
our view to be distinctly analyzed, or drawn into a com- 
parison with the fall of man, so as to throw any light upon 
this subject of inquiry. And as to the recovery of man, 
the case, in all its circumstances, is so different from the 
fall, as not to admit of analogical reasoning from the one 
to the other. This, indeed, has often been attempted, 
and attempted with great confidence; but, as I appre- 
hend, without the least propriety. Man, we are told, 
cannot be recovered from a state of moral depravity 
without the immediate and sovereign interposition of 
God, and hence his renovation is often ascribed to the 
special agency of the Holy Spirit; and the argument 
drawn from this position is, that since a heart entirely 
depraved will not or cannot be recovered to a state of 
moral purity by the operation of second causes merely, 
but requires the immediate interposition of the First 
Cause, so a heart perfectly holy will not and cannot be- 
come corrupt, but by a similar interposition. God, it is 
contended, must work alike immediately and efficiently 
in both, or the change in moral feeling and character 
will never be effected. But who knows this ? What 
are the facts on which this opinion rests ? Admit that 
man's heart cannot be renovated by men or angels, nor 
by any other cause or agent, except God, the First Cause, 
the Almighty Agent, which gave birth to the universe, 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 247 

and it does by no means follow that second causes can- 
not work his corruption and ruin. 

We know neither more nor less of the power of second 
causes, but from facts ; and we have no facts to oppose 
to the account given of the fall of man in the Bible. 
What is there said of the agency of Satan, and of the 
perverting influence of the motives he presented, may 
be true for aught we know, as to the connection estab- 
lished between one event and another in the moral world. 
How came we by our notion that one man cannot con- 
vert another from sin to holiness, with the same facility 
that he can persuade him to take a walk, or to join in a 
party of pleasure ? Nothing but our experience, and 
the testimony of God's Word, can throw a particle of 
light upon this subject. All reasoning a priori would 
not be worth a rush. It is simply the knowledge of facts 
attained by observation, or the testimony of the Word, 
which enables us to judge in the case. From this source 
we learn that no persuasion used by the art of man, 
unaccompanied by the influence of the Divine Spirit, 
ever converts a sinner from the error of his way. But 
this knowledge helps us nothing in deciding upon a 
totally different question, to wit : What causes are requi- 
site to induce a holy being to sin ? Here, too, we must 
have facts which belong to the case, or all our reasonings 
are of no avail, and can never decide the object of in- 
quiry. My knowing how man fell, throws no light upon 
the causes of his recovery, so as to determine what 
causes would he requisite in the case ; and on the other 
hand, my know ing w hat CftUSef are requisite in his re- 
covery, cannot enable me t ( » decide upon the sufficiency 
or insufficiency of the causes concerned or supposed to 

he concerned in his liill. The cases are widely different, 
and no reasoning from the one to the other is either 
philosophical or s;ife. 

We know of a thousand second causes which can take 



248 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

life, but we know of none which can restore it. But 
because God alone, by the sovereign interposition of his 
power, can bring back the departed spirit, when it has 
once forsaken its clay tenement, we do not conclude 
that there must be a similar interposition of his pow r er 
in the article of death, or that to die and rise again is 
equally a miracle. We believe that grapes are con- 
verted into wine, that wine may be converted into vin- 
egar, and this again, by a putrefactive process, into 
water, and all in perfect conformity to the order of 
second causes established in the material world. But 
we do not believe that any train of second causes known 
in the universe is competent to reverse this order — 
changing water into vinegar, and vinegar into wine, and 
wine into grapes ; and why do we not believe it ? Be- 
cause we have no facts on which to ground such a belief, 
and all our experience lies against it. We are not slow 
to perceive the absurdity of reasoning from one case to 
another in the natural world, unless the cases are pre- 
cisely parallel ; and we ought to be no less ready to 
discover the inconclusiveness of such reasoning when 
employed to solve the phenomena which occur in the 
moral world. True philosophy, whether applied to 
matter or mind, is but a history of facts ; and the facts 
pertaining to one change will never serve for the facts 
pertaining to another change, unless the changes them- 
selves are in the same substances and of the same char- 
acter. 

To our apprehension, therefore, there is no force in 
the argument brought from the necessity of the imme- 
diate interposition of Divine power to the conversion 
of a sinner, to show that a similar interposition was 
requisite in the apostacy of man. We may admit it in 
conversion and deny it in the apostacy, and neither 
philosophy nor the Bible opposes either of our positions. 
At any rate, we can see no reason to question that the 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 249 

simple statement made by Moses of the fall of man, is 
not a full account of all the essential facts concerned in 
the event. But if the account be of this character, the 
conclusion remains firm that the fall of man was brought 
about by the sole influence of second causes. 

Secondly. We derive an argument to the same effect 
from the views which must necessarily have governed 
the great deceiver in that transaction. Low as he has 
fallen in point of moral character, it will not be ques- 
tioned that he is mighty in intellect, and must early 
have been acquainted with the laws which govern the 
spiritual world. His conflict with heaven, though it 
covered him with everlasting disgrace, neither weakened 
his intellectual vigor, nor diminished his stock of expe- 
rience as to the constitution and tendencies of things. 
There is every reason to believe, indeed, that his know- 
ledge of the spiritual world was enlarged by this event, 
and that he was better fitted to act the part of a seducer, 
not merely from the malignity of his disposition, and a 
total disregard to truth, but from his deeper insight into 
the springs of mental action, and the laws which govern 
thought. As an intelligent and voluntary agent, he must 
certainly have aimed at something by presenting the 
temptation to our first parents, and it is equally certain 
that lie must have had some expectation of accomplish- 
ing his aim, or he would never have embarked in the 
attempt. For it seems to be B law of intelligent exist- 
ence, never to attempt a thing when there is not the 
Least shadow of hope or expectation of success. When 1 
an object is believed to be absolutely unattainable, there 
all effort is out <>f the question. If it lias been begun it 

Will cense; if it ha* not been be^mi, while the belief 

remains the same it will never be begun. But admit- 
ting the great deceiver had a hope, more or less strong, 
of seducing the happy pair, on what was this hope 

founded I Was it founded on the presumption that God 



250 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

would work a miracle, and thus, by stepping aside from 
the laws he had established as a wise and benevolent 
cons titution of things, lend the aid of his sovereign inter- 
position to the nefarious purpose of this enemy of all 
righteousness ? If he indulged such a hope, I own it 
strikes me as a very forlorn hope, having as little to 
encourage it as anything I can well conceive within the 
limits of possibility. Besides, if Satan acted upon this 
principle, one course of action promised just as fair for suc- 
cess as another. If he supposed that man could not be 
seduced through the influence of second causes, or accord- 
ing to the regular operation of the known laws of nature, 
but that God must specially interpose, and by a sovereign 
act of his power, as a new and distinct antecedent, effect 
the dreadful change, why his effort at deception ? He 
might as well have spoken truth as falsehood, or whistled 
to the wind as to do either ; for on this supposition there 
was no connection between his efforts and the ruin of 
man, and no tendency to this result, except what arose 
from the special interposition of God. What reason, 
then, could he have to expect success in one way rather 
than in another, unless he had by some means discovered 
the Divine mind upon this subject, and learnt under 
what circumstances God was most likely to interpose ? 
Nothing of this kind, I presume, will be pretended. Of 
course, if Satan had any hope of success, which to every 
mind, I think, must appear unquestionable, his hope must 
have been grounded on his knowledge of the unstable 
state of man, and his susceptibility of being affected, 
according to the laws of his being, by the motives which 
might be presented to him. The artful manner in which 
he commences and prosecutes his attack is sufficient 
evidence of his method of reasoning on the subject; 
while the whole story, from first to last, clearly shows 
that he hoped to succeed, not by miracle, but by ad- 
dress. His profound policy is seen in beginning with the 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 251 

woman, and, as has been commonly thought, while her 
husband was not with her. If she was inferior to him 
in mental vigor and firmness, and at the same time pos- 
sessed of a greater share of curiosity, neither of which is 
improbable, who does not perceive the artful and deep- 
laid design ? for succeeding with her, there was little 
reason to doubt that her husband would follow. I can- 
not enter into all the circumstances of the temptation. 
It is enough to remark, that it was conducted with the 
profoundest subtlety, first by awakening a suspicion of 
God's goodness, by inquiring whether it ivas reaUy so, that 
God had said that they should not eat of all the trees 
of the garden ? as if this was a thing hardly to be looked 
for from a Being of supreme beneficence, who studiously 
regarded their happiness; and then, when he found a 
listening ear, proceeding with boldness to affirm that the 
evil which had been threatened would not surely follow, 
though they should partake of the forbidden tree ; for 
God himself knew that it would be succeeded by a 
wonderful improvement of their faculties, and an aug- 
mentation of their bliss — objects very proper for them to 
desire, and right for them to seek, especially by means 
so perfectly within their reach, and so certain in their 
results. Here were principles addressed which belonged 
to their being — the desire of knowledge, and the desire 
of happiness — both instinctive, and both innocent (ill in- 
dulged in a manner which God had forbidden, and 
expressed by an act against which he had wanted them 
(Mi the penalty of his displeasure. 

The warning, however, was in vain; the temptation 

prevailed, and prevailed, as we think, from the suhthiv 

oi its character, ami the circumstances of the persons to 

whom it was addressed. Bill the argument here rests 
not on thi> Statement, hut <>n the simple fact that the 

great deceiver expected to succeed by operating on the 
mind through the medium of the motives which he 



252 0N THE FALL 0F MAN - 

should present, and this according to the established 
order or influence of second causes in the moral world. 
That he had such an expectation, all the circumstances 
of the case seem clearly to demonstrate. Was he mis- 
taken, then, or was he not, as to the foundation on which 
this expectation rested ? Did he understand the consti- 
tution of things in relation to mind, and to mind in a 
state of innocence and trial ? The result of his efforts 
makes in favor of the supposition that he did - but what 
strikes me with far greater force, is the superior order of 
his intellect, and the opportunity he had, both before and 
after his fall, for forming a correct judgment as to the 
laws which govern minds. Without some knowledge of 
these laws, he could form no plans, calculate upon no 
results, and would be as powerless in the kingdom of 
providence as if chained in the bottomless pit. But he 
is not thus ignorant and powerless ; he has a mighty field 
of action, and is represented in the Scripture as display- 
ing an energy of the most fearful character. All this 
energy presupposes his profound knowledge in the 
science of mind ; for if he were a fool in philosophy, he 
would be as contemptible in influence as he is base in 
moral character. From these considerations I derive an 
argument satisfactory to my own mind, at least, that the 
great deceiver reasoned correctly when he supposed that 
the seduction of our first parents was an event which lay 
within the reach of second causes, and might be accom- 
plished without the special interposition of the Great 
First Cause. His opinions in relation to Job, and his 
subtle and vehement temptation of our Saviour immedi- 
ately after his baptism, display views of the same char- 
acter, and had we time to examine them, might be made 
to illustrate and confirm the sentiment now advanced 
concerning the expectations of the adversary in under- 
taking the seduction and ruin of our first parents in the 
garden. It is exceedingly manifest that Satan believed, 



ON THE FALL OF MAR 253 

and still believes, that a virtuous mind may be drawn 
into sin through the agency of second causes, brought to 
bear upon the active principles of its nature. In the case 
of Job he only partially succeeded. In the case of Christ 
he was utterly foiled, for here w r as a countervailing 
power of which, it is probable, he was not at first fully 
aware. He either did not know that the humanity of 
Christ was united with divinity ; or if he did, he was not 
so well informed concerning the influence of that union 
as to make the attempt at seduction appear utterly un- 
availing, till the experiment had been fully and effectu- 
ally tried. He went to this work with hopes more or 
less confident, according to the views which he took of 
this wonderful Person ; but that he had some hope of 
success, we think is past all question, for otherwise a 
sufficient motive to the undertaking cannot be supplied ; 
and that his hopes were founded substantially on the 
same principles which encouraged him in the case of our 
first parents, is a fact that appears in a high degree pro- 
bable, from the subtle and profound policy with which 
he selected his several temptations. In view of the 
same principles he acts still, in all his attempts to seduce 
and destroy the children of men. He takes human na- 
ture as it is, and addresses himself to those active princi- 
ples of the mind, of whatever character, by which he 
hopes to influence the conduct, and draw men into the 
paths of sin and death. His devices are numerous, and 
characterized by the deepest knowledge <>f the springs 
of human action. They display a philosophy of more 
profound research than ever yet fell to the lot of a Hume 

or a Berkeley, a Locke or a Reid, a Stewart or a Brown. 
But still ii is a philosophy confined within the limits of 
legitimate inquiry, or simply to the laws which govern 

thought. Hence it is that his power is 80 extensive, and 
so much to he dreaded by the human family. 

His coadjutors and subalterns, or those demons incar- 



254 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 



nate who act under his influence, proceed upon the 
same principle. So far as they are distinct and intelli- 
gent agents in the work of seduction, they assume human 
nature as it is, and knowing the feelings and passions of 
men, and the connection which subsists between action 
and the inducement to action, they manifest no small de- 
gree of subtlety, as well as depravity of purpose, in 
spreading the snare for the feet of their victims. They 
never expect miracles, but they expect results, and 
results according to the known laws of human action. 

I may be mistaken in the views which I have taken 
of this subject ; but if not, the first sin of man, and all 
other sins, the first temptation and those which have 
succeeded, are alike in this, that they have occurred 
within the limits, and agreeably to the order, of second 
causes, and that no immediate or special interposition of 
the Deity was ever employed in the one or in the other. 
In short, my belief is, that there was nothing a whit 
more miraculous, and scarcely more wonderful, in the 
seduction of the first man, than in the millions of seduc- 
tions which have taken place since. Means were 
arranged to an end, and such means as might be ex- 
pected in similar circumstances to have a similar result, 
agreeably to that order which God has established be- 
tween appropriate causes and their effects in the spiritual 
or moral world. 

That God could have prevented the apostacy of man, 
if he had thought best, I do most cheerfully concede ; 
but whether he could have done it without introducing 
some new influence to act directly upon the mind of 
man, I pretend not now to determine. I think it mani- 
fest, however, both from experience and from the Bible, 
that man can never be recovered from his apostacy and 
restored to the Divine image, without the intervention 
of an agency not known to belong to any second causes 
in the universe. And to this peculiarity of the case, I 



ON THE FALL OF MAN. 255 

attribute much of the language which we find upon this 
subject in the Sacred Volume, where the new heart is, 
in various and striking forms of expression, ascribed to 
the efficacious and special influence of the Holy Ghost. 
This fact of itself might be turned in argument in favor 
of our position, that the fall of man was produced by the 
agency of second causes only. For if God work in one 
way as truly, that is, as immediately and efficiently, as 
in the other, why is it not so declared ? why this 
marked difference in the language of Scripture, in rela- 
tion to the fall and the recovery ? 



LECTUKE X 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY 



One of nature's laws, equally visible in the animal 
and vegetable kingdoms, is, that " like produces like." 
Every species propagates its own kind. Plants and 
trees are not of spontaneous production, but each has its 
own seed, its own root, and propagates its distinctive 
species from age to age. There is often a diversity, 
however, among the same species, whether of plants or 
animals ; and this diversity in time may become so great 
as to form, in a subordinate sense, a new species. This 
is particularly observable among the various tribes of do- 
mestic animals. How different, for instance, is the Ara- 
bian horse from the Canadian ; the surly mastiff from 
the brisk and insignificant whifnt ; the English ox from 
the Italian, and the lesser breeds of the north and south. 
And there is scarcely an animal about us in which this 
diversity does not appear, though originally, it is sup- 
posed, the parent stock was the same. But even this 
diversity, capable of being widened as time advances, 
or adventitious circumstances intervene, is but a far- 
ther development of the great law, that like produces like. 
It shows how closely nature adheres to the principle of 
imparting to the offspring, not only the general, but many 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 257 

of the peculiar, characteristics of the parent. While it 
allows not the general order to be broken up by a con- 
fusion of the species, it favors individual diversities, and 
occasionally widens and extends them. This is equally 
true of everything that has life, vegetable or animal. 

But it is more important to remark, that the same 
principle is amply illustrated in our own species. Men 
do not, by any change of time or circumstance, lose 
their peculiar form, and other characteristic qualities. 
They have the same number of limbs, the same general 
features, as at the beginning, and walk upright from 
generation to generation. Now and then one is cropped 
and branded, or loses an arm or a leg, but this pro- 
duces no change in the descendants of such individuals. 
Their bodily perfection, as to all its great outlines, is 
preserved by the uniform laws of propagation. And the 
same is true with respect to the mind. The deranged 
man or the idiot does not ordinarily communicate his 
specific calamity to his oifspring ; but the great law 
which secures the identity of the species, kindly provides 
against any such result. Still, every one knows that 
there are marked diversities in the family of man, and 
such diversities as lay a foundation for distinguishing 
them into different races. How different is the negro 
from the Western Indian, and the European from many 
tribes of the Asiatics ! And this difference is a differ- 
ence not merely of color, countenance and form, but a 
difference in the native temperament and cast of their 

minds — a temperament and cast of which we judge not 
by a direct inspection of their menial (dements, but by 
their liahilndes and acts. From what causes this diver- 
sity hai arisen, it may not. he easy fully to determine, 
though climate and modes of life have douhtless had a 

preponderating influence. But how this diversity has 
been continued from age to age, no man, we should think, 
would be at a loss. For does not every one see that it is 
17 



258 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



by natural generation — the offspring deriving their pecu- 
liar qualities from their immediate parents, and they 
again from theirs ? This is a fact so palpable, and so 
much in accordance with the great system of nature, 
that we should be surprised to find a man who would 
deny it. But suppose such a man to be found, and he 
should say, " I have no doubt there is a connection be- 
tween the present Africans and their progenitors, who 
lived fifteen hundred years ago ; nay, I am willing to ad- 
mit that this connection, whatever it be, has had the 
effect of imparting a sable hue to the present generation ; 
but then I deny that anybody knows what this con- 
nection is, or how it operates : it is certain only that 
it is not a connection by natural descent, and that it does 
not operate through or according to any law of propaga- 
tion ; and this for two reasons : 1st. The present gen- 
eration of Africans were neither born nor begotten of 
their ancient progenitors, but of their immediate parents 
who lived fifteen hundred years since; and, 2d. It 
cannot be supposed that generation has had anything to 
do in this business ; for if this were the fact, then the 
man who has but one leg would beget a son who has 
but one leg, and a man who has but one eye would be- 
get a son who has but one eye/' I say, suppose a man 
of this description could be found — and in these days 
almost anything is supposable — what should we think of 
his theory, and of the arguments by which it is support- 
ed ? If he were a philosopher, should we not suspect 
he had not thoroughly investigated his principles, or that 
he had made his deductions under some false and per- 
verted view of the subject ? For do we not see what the 
relation is, which exists between the present African 
and his distant progenitor ? that it is the relation of natu- 
ral descent, through the medium of intervening genera- 
tions ? and can we doubt that the same law of propaga- 
tion which God established at the beginning has been 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 259 

regularly developed, in transmitting from father to son 
the sable color which now distinguishes the present race 
of Africa ? And what is it but trifling to say that color, 
and form, and features, are not transmitted by propaga- 
tion, because a broken tooth and swollen legs are not ; 
as if no distinction was to be made between what is es- 
sential, or even permanently peculiar, to a race, and that 
which is accidental or adventitious to an individual ? 

Whatever is common to a whole species, or even to a 
well-defined class of that species, we say is natural, be- 
cause it is what occurs to them in the ordinary course of 
nature, and what we expect to see in them from genera- 
tion to generation. And why do we expect to see it ? 
Only because we regard it as a fact that like begets like, 
as to all the permanent characteristics of the species. 
This is the law of propagation, and this law, with the 
occasional diversity we have admitted, is the link which 
connects any one generation with that which precedes 
it, and that preceding generation with the foregoing, 
until we come up to the primitive stock immediately 
created by the hand of God. There is no mistiness or 
darkness here ; it is what the Bible teaches us to regard 
as the original appointment of the Creator, and what lies 
open to every man's inspection in the vegetable and 
animal world. I doubt if a man on earth can be found, 
who would not subscribe to this genera] statement. A 
difference, indeed, may exist, as to the immediate agency 
of Deity in this order of things. Some may attribute it 
solely to the power of second causes, b power inherent 
in the different classes and orders of being which God 
produced at the beginning; and others may believe that 
his hand is immediately and constantly employed in the 
regular production of die animal and vegetable tribes, as 
they successively arise. But w ho can doubt the uniformity 

of the laWS by which the various species are continued, 
and according to which the offspring 18 made to resein- 



250 ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

ble the parent from age to age ? Let God work as he 
may, mediately or immediately, or after both manners, the 
laws which govern propagation are the same. 

But how will the doctrine that like begets like, apply to 
the moral character and condition of man ? That it applies 
to his physical character and condition to a great extent, 
no one doubts. It secures to him a body superior to 
that of any other animal, and a soul adorned with various 
and wonderful powers, besides many other characteristics 
of physical nature more or less peculiar to his immediate 
progenitors. This, we presume, will be universally con- 
ceded. But how stands the fact, with respect to man as 
a moral being, and, 

First, with respect to his moral constitution ? Is this 
the gift of nature, and does it come to him by descent ? 
Why should it not ? What is his moral constitution, but 
his capacity to act as a moral agent, involving the 
powers of reason, conscience and will, and, if you please, 
the susceptibility of pleasure and pain ? All these are 
bestowed upon him, as parts of his nature, and come to 
him as other constituents of his being come, without any 
agency of his, and through the medium of his parents, 
according to the settled law of propagation ; and this not 
the less certain, whether the Author of nature co-operates 
with second causes or does not co-operate. In either 
case, it is according to his will, and under laws which 
he has established, that the human race are re-produced, 
from age to age, without losing any of the essential qual- 
ities of the species. 

But I hear it asked, is man a moral agent the moment 
he is born ? This may or may not be, without affecting 
the position, that his moral constitution is derived from 
his birth, or, which is the same thing, comes to him ac- 
cording to the laws of natural descent. For it is absurd 
to suppose that nothing comes to him by birth, but what 
is coeval with that event. It is a part of man's physical 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



261 



constitution, and what is natural to the species, that he 
should be furnished with teeth, and a preparation for 
these organs is made anterior to birth; yet he comes 
into the world without them. It belongs to the male part 
of the species to be distinguished by a beard at mature 
age ; but this natural and uniform characteristic does not 
make its appearance until its appointed season. Every 
one knows, too, that there is such a thing as natural 
affection existing between the sexes, and also between 
parents and children, and these affections are often de- 
nominated constitutional; but neither of them is developed 
at the moment of birth, nor until long afterwards ; never- 
theless, they depend on birth, and are (infallibly) con- 
nected with it as a part of nature's great law pertaining 
to the propagation and identity of the species. So this 
has been understood, from the beginning of the world, 
as the current language in all ages and nations sufficiently 
demonstrates. Whatever a man possesses in common 
with his species, has been held to be natural, in distinc- 
tion from what is artificial, adventitious or acquired; be- 
cause it is that which comes to him in the course of 
nature, and is the immediate or remote consequence of 
his birth. 

Now suppose it were an admitted fact, that man is 
not a moral agent as soon as he is born, nor until some 
months or years afterwards, si ill there is a foundation 
laid in the very elements of his being for his coming to 
this state. By the laws of his constitution, lie approxi- 
mates to it every hour; and \\ hen the moment of moral 
discrimination arrives, ho is placed under law, and, 
henceforth, his moral responsibility is a permanent at- 
tribute of his being. I ask. was he not born to this? 
Waa not his moral agency provided lor, in the very ele- 
ments of his existence, and made as sure by the law of 

propagation as the shape of his face, or the existence of 

his hoard ? 



2£2 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

By what law does an oak produce an acorn, and an 
acorn an oak ? Doubtless it will be said, by the law of 
propagation. Is not the future tree, then, provided for 
in the existence of the acorn ? For what is the tree, 
itself, but the development of the principles involved in 
this germ ? As is the one, so will be the other ; and 
agreeably to this law " of trees producing seed, and seed 
producing trees," a law as old as creation, are the various 
kinds of trees perpetuated, and their several species pre- 
served. The same thing takes place throughout the ani- 
mal world, rational and irrational. But the point which 
we wish to be prominent here, is that whatever charac- 
terizes the species at its maturity, as truly belongs to its 
nature, and therefore propagated, as that which appears 
in it and is common to it at an earlier period of its exist- 
ence. Of course I may admit that the moral sense is not 
displayed -at the moment of a man's birth, and yet justly 
contend that it is one of the elements of his nature, be- 
cause there is provision for it in his constitution, and it 
will be developed in its season. He as truly inherits it 
from his parents, and they from theirs, as the conforma- 
tion of his body or the color of his skin. The negro in- 
herits his color from his progenitors, though he is not 
black at the moment of his birth, nor, as Dr. Good ob- 
serves, until some months afterwards. I do not see, 
then, that we need to deny, or that we can well deny, 
that a man's moral constitution comes to him by birth, 
and consequently here like begets like. This was certainly 
the opinion of Cicero, that profound philosopher and dis- 
tinguished orator ; and I the rather refer to him, because 
his language goes to justify the language of Scripture, and 
the language which theologians have long since adopted 
on this subject. Speaking of the effort which man nat- 
urally makes to defend his own life when assailed, he 
says this is nature's law ; " a law not written, but born 
with us; a law which we have not learned, received or 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 263 

read, but which we have taken, drawn and sucked from 
nature herself; in which we were not taught, but formed 
or made, not instructed, but imbued" (See Oration for 
Milo, and Pictet. 393, Book IX., chapter viii.) Cicero 
here speaks of a part of nature's great law, namely, that 
which is concerned in self-defence. And this he says 
was born vjith us, made with us; that it comes not by in- 
struction or art, but is inherent in our constitution ; we 
are naturally imbued with it. Not that we literally be- 
gin to defend ourselves as soon as we are born, and before 
we know what aggression is ; but that we inherit a 
constitution which, when properly developed, will come 
to this. Nature will teach us this law of self-defence, 
not only as a matter of necessity, but as a matter of 
right, and of course that we are not to blame when we 
act according to its dictates. Cicero's object was to ex- 
culpate a man who had killed another in his own de- 
fence, and therefore contended that this was not only 
natural but lawful, as it was in accordance with that 
great law of righteousness written upon the hearts of 
all men — a law as universal as the species, and the 
same at Athens as at Rome. But if this law was born 
with us, then we were born with a moral constitution ; 
for to have such a law and to possess a moral constitution, 
are one and the same tiling, or, to say the least, they mu- 
tually imply each other. What is natural to us, this 
celebrated man deemed it proper to say was born with 
US, because inherent in our constitution, or in the cir- 
cumstances mid condition in which nature lias placed us. 
It by no means follows, however, that lie either supposed 
or maintained, thai whatsoever is bom with us is abso- 
lutely coeta neous with OUT birth ; hut that whatsoever is 
derived to US from this source, and common to the spe- 
cies, might properly he said to he made or bom with ns, 
because it pertains to that nature and condition which 
we inherit from our parents. We are prepared now to 



2g4 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

renew the inquiry, whether like begets like as to moral 
character ? 

We have seen, if we mistake not, the truth of this 
doctrine, in relation to many of our physical qualities, 
and no less certainly with respect to the fact of our 
moral constitution. Now, is the same thing true with 
respect to moral character, the immediate result of a moral 
constitution ? I confess I can see no reason for doubt ; 
the evidence of fact seems to be the same in both cases, 
and the voice of the Scriptures equally distinct and im- 
perative. What is the immediate result of our moral 
constitution 1 Most certainly that we have a moral 
character, and that that character is a sinful one. This is 
not denied by those with whom we contend. They ad- 
mit that we sin as soon as we are capable of it, and that 
we sin uniformly and continuously, until renewed by the 
Divine Spirit. They admit this fact to be as universal 
as reason or conscience, or any other permanent charac- 
teristic of man. They allow, too, that a state of sin 
comes upon all men as surely as a moral constitution 
comes, and that it comes at the same time, and in the 
same circumstances ; the two things being always found 
in close and inseparable connection. Is not one, then, 
just as natural as the other? and are we not born to the 
one as truly as we are born to the other ? One we regard 
as hereditary, because common to the species, and a sure 
and unfailing consequence of birth. Why should we 
not so regard the other for the same reasons, since that 
also is alike common to man, and the certain consequence 
of his natural descent ? It makes no difference that one 
relates to the capacity of moral action, and the other to 
moral action itself; for both flow from causes equally 
connected with our birth, and both are distinguishing 
and permanent attributes of man in his natural state. 
With equal propriety, we say it is natural for a bird to 
have ivings, and a bird to fly ; the organ and the action, 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 265 

the power and the exercise of that power, follow the same 
law of descent. This is as true of man as of the lower 
order of creatures, and as true of him in relation to his 
moral as to his physical character. The constitution he 
receives, and the circumstances in which he is placed, 
determine both his powers of action, and the distinctive 
character of his acts, whether physical or moral. 

But where, it may be asked, is the propriety of com- 
paring man, who is a moral agent, with creatures that 
are not moral agents ? Their powers and acts may well 
be supposed to be natural, since they flow from their 
physical constitution, and from the circumstances in 
which nature has placed them. But man is of another 
order of being, and, as a moral agent, must be supposed 
to have a natural or physical power of doing differently 
from what he does, especially when he sins. 

We admit that man is a moral agent, and that, ab- 
stractly considered, he has a physical power of doing 
differently from what he does. But what is this to 
the purpose ? Every voluntary being, moral agent or 
otherwise, has a physical power of doing differently from 
what lie does ; but this makes no difference as to the 
fact of what he will do, or of what it is natural for him to 
do. Some horses have two gaits : they trot, or they 
pace, as they please ; but ordinarily, one gait is more 
natural than the other, and of course more likely to be 
chosen. A dog can walk on three legs or on four, but 
it is more natural for him to walk on four, and we ex- 
pect, of course, to see him on four, unless some unlucky 
accident induce him to hold up one leg while he goes 
upon three. A physical power in man, or in an animal, 

of (loin:: differently from what he does, cannot hinder 

one course of action from being more natural than 
another, nor make if improper t<> say that he was bom 

to one course rather than the other. We judge of what 
is natural by experience, and where we have no point 



266 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



to carry, we never doubt that nature has a hand in those 
actions which we perceive to be common to the species. 
This is the unbiased voice of reason, as to those actions 
in men which we denominate physical. We say they 
eat, they drink, they walk, as nature has taught them ; 
and though these actions are often modified by custom 
or fashion, yet their certainty and their general character 
are determined by the powers which nature has given, 
and by the circumstances in which these powers are 
developed. 

For aught that appears, the same thing holds true with 
respect to their moral actions. The very moment they 
commence their moral existence — and we care not when 
it is — they commence a course of moral action, and this 
course, by the admission of all parties, is a uniformly 
sinful course. They sin as soon as they are capable of 
it, and sin continuously, unless prevented by a power 
which is extrinsic to themselves, and a power which is 
almighty. But this, we are told, is a great mystery — a 
mystery which nobody can solve — a fact which neither 
the Book of Nature nor the Book of Revelation has 
explained. But we ask, why not explain it, as we 
explain the natural but voluntary actions of animals ? 
and as we explain the voluntary but merely 'physical 
actions of man? These, we are ready to admit, flow 
from constitutional principles, and from the objects which 
excite them, a physical power to the contrary notwith- 
standing, Why should our great modesty prevent us 
from reasoning in the one case, as all the world have 
agreed to reason in the other ? The only objection I 
can see is, that then we should be compelled to believe, 
not in physical depravity, concerning which some persons 
have a moon-stricken fear, but in the fact that men are, 
by nature, morally depraved; that is, that they come into 
the world with such powers and susceptibilities, and in 
such circumstances, that without special Divine interpo- 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 267 

sition, they will sin, and only sin, to the end of their 
course. Admit this, and we have a uniform cause for a 
uniform effect, and one, too, which lies open to every 
man's observation, and which, we shall presently show, 
is distinctly recognized in the Word of God. Deny this, 
and we must say that the uniform sinfulness of men has 
no cause, or none which is adequate, unless we resort to 
the immediate agency of God. 

Take another illustration. Man has a moral constitu- 
tion. How did he come by it ? Plainly by his birth, as 
all his other powers and principles came. But can he 
have a moral constitution, without making moral dis- 
criminations ? The moment his moral powers enable 
him to decide between right and wrong, he will decide 
between them, and continue thus to decide, more or less 
correctly, as long as he continues his moral being. It 
does not follow, indeed, that he will always decide 
justly, unless it could be proved that the moral sense is 
an infallible guide to moral action. The common opin- 
ion, and which we take to be the true one, is, that it 
often makes erroneous decisions which it must and will 
correct, as new light is poured upon the understanding. 
But the point which we wish to be noticed is, that the 
fact of having a moral constitution will draw after it acts 
of moral discrimination, and these more or less correct 
as the judgment is informed. Does not correct usage, 
then, warrant us to say, that as it is natural to man to 
have a moral constitution, so it is no less natural that he 
should make moral distinctions ? for how do we know 
that he has such a constitution, but from the fact of his 
making these distinctions I The existence of the power 

and the exercise of il are closely conjoined. Hence, if 
one be from nature, the other musl be from nature also- 
For it would be absurd to suppose that the cause is de- 
rived from ;i particular source, but not the effect which 
flows from the cause, it a tree produce a branch, and 



258 ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

the branch a bud, and the bud fruit, do we not refer the 
branch, the bud and the fruit, to the parent tree, which, 
seriatim, produced them all ? On this principle it is that 
men have always agreed to call that natural, which was 
traceable to birth, whether the thing so traced related 
to a power, or to the exercise of a power — whether it 
were something coetaneous with birth, or did not arrive 
until months or years afterwards. Cicero, who under- 
stood the power of language as well as any other man, 
did not consider it a departure from correct usage to say 
that the law which leads us to distinguish between right 
and wrong, was born with us ; and, of course, that the fact 
of our thus distinguishing was from nature, because de- 
rived from our birth. The power, and the exercise of 
the power, were obviously in his view from the same 
source. Now if we take but a single step more, and a 
step which seems unavoidable from those already taken, 
and we come to the entire powers of a moral agent 
placed under law, and to his acts in relation to that law, 
the very existence of the moral sense supposes and im- 
plies all other powers essential to a moral agent. But 
the moment a man exists as a moral agent, he will act 
as a moral agent, and either obey or disobey the law of 
his duty ; or, if it should be said he may fail of his duty 
by not acting, still it is not less true that then he would 
not be conformed to the law. Conformity is holiness, 
and non-conformity is sin. Allow, then, that he sins as 
soon as he is capable of it, and that he sins uniformly 
and continuously, is not this natural to him and what he 
is born to, as much as that he should be a moral agent, 
or that he should make moral discriminations? It is 
something common to the species, what is found true of 
them in all ages, in all countries, and under every mode 
of moral culture. So far, then, as the mere facts are 
concerned, what higher proof can we have that this uni- 
versal depravity is natural? I do not mean physical in 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 269 

opposition to moral. It comes to man as early and as 
certainly as his powers of moral agency come, and is 
developed in constant conjunction with those powers. 
If I inherit my moral constitution, therefore, by descent, 
I inherit my moral character by descent also ; for both, 
according to the established order of things, are the un- 
failing consequence of my being born a man, and not an 
ape. But when I say I am horn a man, I do not mean 
simply that I am born with the powers of a moral agent, 
for no specific kind of moral action could be inferred from 
this fact alone — it might be holy, it might be sinful ; but 
I mean that I am born with all the propensities, powers 
and susceptibilities of my nature, in those circumstances, 
and with those objects, which have an influence in the 
development of my powers. In such a birth may be 
found the proper source of my physical and moral acts, 
the one as much as the other; and here lies the prox- 
imate cause of that readiness and eagerness to sin which 
man has uniformly displayed through a thousand genera- 
tions. Do any still doubt of this ? Let me ask them 
why they trace the habitudes and acts of animals to their 
constitution, and their constitution to their birth ? and 
why they do the same thing w ith respect to the mere 
physical propensities and actions of men ? Here they do 
not deny that nature does something, nor that she sup- 
plies an all-controlling cause in the gift of existence, and 
in the character and circumstances of that existence. 
Why should they hesitate when they come to moral 
action, which as certainly flows from powers which are 
the gift of nature, and from circumstances which nature 
lias ordered and provided I If they doubt moral causa- 
tion, let them BBJ BO, and We shall know where (hey 
are. But if they admit it, why not admit a cause which 
is evidently at hand, and which exhibits itself in the 
same manner, and with tin; same certainty, as causes 
which are concerned in mere physical action ? No man 



270 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

hesitates to say that it is natural for a father to love a 
son, and for a son to love a father ; but why does he say 
this ? Because this love is common to the species, and 
is to be expected wherever these relations exist. The 
stated and uniform fact is regarded as settling the ques- 
tion that the affection is natural. Can any good reason 
be offered, why the same uniformity of fact, in relation 
to moral action, should not determine this also to be 
naturul? But if natural, nature has a hand in it, and it 
must be traced to our birth. To this conclusion I think 
we shall most certainly be brought, if we impartially 
consider the facts in the case, unless tome testimony 
from the Bible can be found to counteract it. What, 
then, is the voice of the Scriptures ? 

Before making our appeal to particular passages, let 
me state in general terms what I consider the Bible 
account to be. 

This book teaches that man, in his primitive state, was 
made upright, or in the moral image of God — not merely 
innocent, and capable of acquiring a moral character of 
some kind, but with such powers and susceptibilities, 
and with such tendencies of nature arising from these 
powers and the objects which surrounded him, as to make 
it morally certain that he would do right rather than 
wrong, unless assailed by some temptation of peculiar 
force, which should disturb the natural and regular de- 
velopment of his powers. His first moral acts, therefore, 
were right and well-pleasing to God. But temptation 
came, and he fell ; he ate of the tree whereof God com- 
manded him not to eat. This first offence was followed 
by a state of unmingled depravity, because it brought 
him under the curse of that law which threatens death 
to the transgressor, death in all its forms, death as opposed 
to life, the life which he actually enjoyed while obe- 
dient, and which he had the prospect of enjoying in a 
state of communion with his Maker forever. This death 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 271 

involved the loss of all good, and the endurance of all 
evil, and consequently subjected him at once to the loss 
of the Divine image, and a state of moral depravity — to 
all the miseries of this life, the extinction of animal ex- 
istence, and endless sufferings in a future state. Such 
were the consequences of the first offence to Adam, as 
we judge, from the very nature of the case, and from 
the development of the curse in relation to his posterity, 
as well as from the provisions made in the plan of re- 
demption for the removal of that curse. The Bible 
nowhere expressly says that Adam became totalhj de- 
praved upon his first offence, but it declares this to be 
the state of his posterity, which is a good reason for 
believing that it was so with him, especially if it be true 
that like begets like, and if the new birth was necessary 
to Adam, as it is to all other men, a fact, perhaps, which 
none will either deny or doubt. Now, if we mistake 
not, the Bible asserts that a state of entire depravity 
came upon all men through Adam ; that his transgression 
was the occasion of their transgression, his death of their 
death — spiritual death first — death temporal and eternal 
afterwards. Nor is this all. It clearly intimates that 
these consequences, and especially a state of moral de- 
pravity, comes upon the posterity of Adam, through the 
medium of their birth — they, as his descendants, inherit- 
ing the same moral dispositions which took possession of 
his heart immediately upon his fall. That a great change 
took place in his moral nature, when he fell under the 
curse, is past all doubt. Antecedent to this, he delighted 
in the character and government of God ; his obedience 
was natural, sweet and refreshing ; lie had no greater 
freedom, no greater joy, than to do the will of his Crea- 
tor. But when he had once ventured on disobedience 1 , 
all within was changed ; he became alienated from the 
Author of his being, he dreaded his presence, and hated 
his commands. Passion and appetite took the ascendancy 



272 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



of reason, and supreme self-love became the master- 
spring of his soul. By the righteous appointment of 
God, the very same characteristics were transmitted to 
his posterity, and by the same law that their physical 
existence and attributes were transmitted — the law of 
propagation. 

Now for the proof of this. The fact is not questioned, 
that as Adam was, after his fall, so are his posterity, in 
point of moral character. But do they become such by 
natural descent ? Our appeal is to the sacred page. But 
as the examination of this subject will occupy too much 
time to be included in the present lecture, we shall pause 
here, and renew the inquiry in a subsequent discussion. 



LECTURE XL 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



In a former Lecture we endeavored to establish the 
following principles : 

First. That man, as a physical being, derives his ex- 
istence and his qualities from his birth ; in other words, 
that he is what he is in consequence of the law of propa- 
gation or natural descent. We confined the remark to 
what man is naturally, in distinction from what he is 
artificially, or by means of education, and what he may 
be by accident. We limited the remark also to what 
is common to the class or species to which he belongs, 
and to those peculiar properties and qualities which any 
one generation may inherit from their immediate pro- 
genitors. 

Second. That man, as a moral being, derives his exist- 
ence no less from his birth, including what is essentia] 
to his mora] agency, together with those objects and 
circumstances which naturally attend him, and which 
call his powers into action. For what constitutes him a 
moral being but a moral constitution I and what is this 
constitution but a capacity for moral acts, taken in con- 
nection with the appropriate circumstances of Ins exist- 
ence? All these belong as much to the pura natuniiui 
as his bones and muscles, or any other physical qualities 
18 



274 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



of his body or mind. They come without his agency, 
and according to the settled law of propagation, and this 
no less certainly, whether God work mediately or imme- 
diately in bringing them into being. 

Third. That man's physical acts are derived from his 
birth, inasmuch as their immediate causes are thus de- 
rived ; and hence they are said to be natural and heredi- 
tary. They are not anterior to his agency, because they 
involve his agency ; but they are provided for, and made 
certain, by his physical constitution, and by the circum- 
stances in which he is placed. They are surely not 
without cause, and what cause can there be but that 
which is found in his natural powers and susceptibilities, 
and in the objects which meet him, and act upon him, 
in the state to which he is introduced by his birth ? 

Fourth. Acts of moral discrimination, which every man 
performs as soon as he possesses a moral sense, may 
justly be termed natural, because they flow necessarily 
from the powers of his being — powers common to the 
race, and derived through the medium of birth, or ac- 
cording to the established laws of procreation. These 
acts are not in themselves moral, as having a character 
morally good or morally bad, but are called moral, as many 
moral causes are, simply because they pertain to moral 
things. They are the exercise of a power derived from 
nature, and are therefore themselves thus derived, the 
effect falling into the same predicament with its cause. 
Hence, men in all ages have agreed to call that natural 
which was traceable to birth, whether it were a power or 
the exercise of a power, whether it were coeval with 
birth or existed afterwards. 

Fifth. We asserted, and endeavored to prove, so far 
as the testimony of facts is concerned, that the moral acts 
of men, antecedent to regeneration, are traceable to their 
birth, on the same principles, and with equal certainty, 
as we trace their physical acts and acts of moral discrimi- 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 275 

nation to that source. That men will act morally, in 
consequence of a moral constitution, is not doubted by 
any one ; and that in present circumstances they will 
act morally wrong, and that uniformly, till they are reno- 
vated by the power of God, is admitted by Calvinists of 
every school. But the question is, how does it appear 
that this uniformly wrong action is traceable to birth, or 
connected with the law of propagation ? Our answer 
is, just as it appears that the voluntary acts of animals, 
and the voluntary but physical actions of men, are trace- 
able to this source. We admit the law of propagation 
to exert a decisive and controlling influence in the last 
two cases ; why not in the former ? A cause there must 
be for this state of things, and a uniform cause ; why 
not resort to that which is at hand, and which, in all 
analogous cases, is deemed satisfactory ? But we promised 
to turn our attention to the Bible, and to make our last 
appeal there. And as introductory to its specific testi- 
mony, we made a general statement of what we con- 
ceived the Bible account to be. We resume the subject 
here, and ask, what does the sacred page teach us, on the 
subject of native or hereditary depravity ? We are told, 
in the book of Genesis, that when Adam begat Seth, 
" he begat a son in his own likeness, after his image." 
Does this relate to his moral likeness, his rnoral ima2re 
especially, though not to 1 Ik* exclusion of intellectual or 
physical resemblance ? This has been a common opin- 
ion, and certainly of some who were no mean proficients 
iu sacred literature. Nor is ii to be doubted, that the 
sou Was, in feet, in the moral likeness of (he father, if 
that likeness be taken to mean the depraved dispositions 
and character into which Adam fell by his apostacy ; for 

in (his likeness has every son and daughter of Adam 

been found since. \)u\ die question is, did the* inspired 

penman intend to teach (his fact, when he said Adam 

begat a son in his own likeness ! If he did, Mm passage 



276 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

has a point and force which would be wholly wanting 
without it. But some may say that the text simply 
asserts that Adam begat a son, with all the lineaments 
of human nature, irrespective of moral character, and 
thus like himself; that is to say, he begat a son who 
was a man and not a horse. Such a fact would seem to 
impart but little information, and none, as I conceive, 
which could be turned to any moral account. But sup- 
pose the likeness to be moral, who knows, it may be said, 
whether it was sinful or holy ? Perhaps Adam had re- 
pented, and become a good man, and begat his son in 
his own likeness in this respect ; that is, he begat him 
with moral dispositions similar to his own, or with prin- 
ciples which would certainly lead to these. 

Such an interpretation carries its own refutation along 
with it, since we know that men are brought to the 
exercise of right moral feelings in this way. Doubtless, 
Seth was born into the world as every other man has 
been born since, without any moral likeness to God or 
good men, and without any preparation of mind or of 
circumstance which would naturally issue in such like- 
ness. Of course, the piety which he is supposed after- 
wards to display, came not from nature, but from grace. 
Have we not a right then, to say that this text bears 
strongly on the fact of man's native sinfulness, and teaches 
not only a proneness to sin in the earliest stages of his 
existence, but that this proneness comes from the law of 
his birth, the father transmitting a depraved nature to 
his son ? 

Several passages in the book of Job furnish ground 
for a like inference. Though we cannot appeal to this 
book as of decisive authority, except where God himself 
speaks, yet the sentiments of holy men in the patri- 
archal age are, on this subject, entitled to peculiar 
respect. In the fifteenth chapter one of Job's friends 
exclaims : " What is man, that he should be clean ? 






ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 277 

or he that is born of a woman, that he should be right- 
eous ?" As if moral impurity attached to man's earliest 
existence, and flowed to him as a consequence of his 
birth. The same thought is conveyed in the twenty- 
fifth chapter : " How then can man be justified with 
God ? or how can he be clean that is born of woman ?" 
Why cannot he be clean who is born of woman ? only 
because it would be incompatible with that law of gen- 
eration which insures to the offspring the same general 
qualities which are natural to the parent, and common 
to the species. And again (Job eleventh) : " For vain 
man would be wise, though man be born like a wild 
ass's colt." Here the comparison is strong, and indi- 
cates not so much the ignorance and stupidity of man, 
as his native and inherent perverseness ; a perverseness 
as instinctive and original as the wildness and intracta- 
bility of the ass's colt. To the same effect Job him- 
self speaks (chapter fourteenth), when he says to God : 
" Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean ? Not 
one." He had before pleaded the frail and transient na- 
ture of his existence, together with his multiplied suffer- 
ings, as a reason for the Divine compassion ; and now he 
confesses, and pleads his native corruption, not as a bar 
to the Divine justice, but as a consideration suitable 
to move the Divine mercy. He deeply felt that he 
could not stand in judgment with God. Such is the 
view which Pool takes of this passage, and so far as I 
know, it is in accordance with commentators generally. 
But why so difficult or impossible to bring a clean thing 
out of an unclean I The same reason inns! he returned 
as before, because (he law of propagation insures the 
same moral character to the offspring which was natu- 
rally possessed by the parent, and w Inch was a perma- 
nent characteristic of the nice. The language of David 
in the fifty-eighth Psalm, may reasonably be regarded as 
supporting the same truth, though perhaps not so clear- 



278 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

ly and unequivocally. "The wicked are estranged from 
the womb ; they go astray as soon as they be born, 
speaking lies." But why do they go astray so early, and 
so certainly, it may be asked, if their wickedness be not 
inbred ? if its immediate causes are not derived from 
their birth, and infallibly provided for, in the very ele- 
ments of their being ? It is added by the Psalmist, 
" Their poison is like the poison of a serpent ;" not only 
deadly in its effects, but naturally inherent in its sub- 
ject; a property which belongs to the species, and 
descends with them from generation to generation. 
That this was the sentiment which David intended to 
convey, there is the more ground to believe, from the con- 
fession which he makes concerning himself in the fifty- 
first Psalm : " Behold I was shapen in iniquity, and in 
sin did my mother conceive me ;" or, as the words are 
rendered by Calvin and Stewart : " Behold I was born 
in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me." If 
this be not a confession of native depravity, or inborn sin, 
it would be hard to tell what is ; for to be conceived 
in sin, and brought forth in iniquity, mark as strongly as 
words can do, not only the early existence of sin, but that 
natural birth is the immediate source of sin. Surely the 
Psalmist must have supposed that it came to him by 
descent, for he was conceived and born in it. But a 
doubt is raised concerning the interpretation of this text : 
who knows whether the Psalmist speaks concerning his 
own sin, or the sin of his mother ? 

Exegetical considerations, a late critic remarks, cannot 
determine. But to what purpose, let me ask, should 
David speak of his mother's sin, even on the supposition 
that she was notoriously infamous, a supposition equally 
gratuitous and incredible ? It is his own sin which he 
confesses and deplores throughout this Psalm, and his 
own forgivenes and sanctification for which he pleads. 
Mark the peculiarity of his language : " Have mercy 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 279 

upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness ; ac- 
cording unto the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot 
out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from mine 
iniquity/' not another's, " and cleanse me from my sin ; 
for I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever 
before me. Against thee, and thee only, have I sinned, 
and done this evil in thy sight. Behold, I was born in 
iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me ;" plainly 
turning his eye inward, like a true penitent, upon the 
early and deep pollution of his heart, as he had just before 
turned it outward, upon those overt acts which had so 
greatly incensed the Divine Majesty ; tracing, as Calvin 
remarks, his outward transgressions to their internal 
source — the sinful nature which he inherited from his 
parents. " Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward 
parts, and in the hidden parts thou shalt make me to 
know wisdom ;" words w T hich show that his eye was 
strongly fixed upon his own inward, man, not the inner 
or outer man of another. " Purge me with hyssop, and 
I shall be clean ; wash me, and / shall be whiter than 
snow. * * * Create within me a clean heart, O God, 
and renew a right spirit within me." This is the style 
which runs through the whole Psalm, and sufficiently 
demonstrates how entirely his thoughts were occupied 
with his own case, and with what concerned the inner 
man chiefly. All this well became him as a true peni- 
tent. But to suppose, as some have done, thai instead 
of looking to the early and deep corruption of his heart, 
and confessing this hidden source of iniquity, he turned 
away from liis own sin to confess the sin of liis mother, 
and in a matter, too, in whirh the hand of God rather 

than his mother \\;iv concerned, is, in our apprehension, 
a strange and unwarrantable perversion of thfe text. 

And whal is to he gained by it ? Why, to set aside an 
important passage, to which the church lias uniformly 
appealed, tor nearly twenty centuries, in proof of the 



280 ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

doctrine of native or hereditary depravity. For, let David 
be considered only as speaking of his own sin' in this 
place, and his single acknowledgment settles the ques- 
tion that man is a sinner by nature or birth ; for this we 
shall hereafter show is the scriptural import of this phrase. 
But impartiality requires that we should hear both sides. 
They who suppose that David here speaks of his mother's 
sin, and not his own, consider him as simply confessing 
that he sprang from a corrupted source, and was the 
degenerate plant of a strange vine ; having no special 
regard to the depravity of his heart, and much less to 
the fact that this depravity came to him by descent. 
What indication, I ask, was this of his penitence, and 
especially of a heart bleeding with a sense of his aggra- 
vated guilt ? It was, indeed, a matter of some humilia- 
tion, to have descended from a sinful and dishonorable 
parentage ; but this was no fault of his, nor did it infer 
his want of innocence, if the doctrine of hereditary de- 
pravity be denied. It laid no foundation even for saying 
that he was the degenerate plant of a strange vine. But 
admit this doctrine, and the language is full of import, 
amounting to an ingenuous confession that he was de- 
praved from the beginning, and depraved by nature or 
birth. I cannot but think it was an oversight, when a 
certain modern critic allowed this confession of David 
to mean, " that he was the degenerate plant of a strange 
vine ; for, according to well-established use, this phrase- 
ology carries us at once to the great law of propagation, 
by which the offspring or the shoot participates in the 
essential qualities of the parent stock. We might here 
close our remarks upon this passage, but some one will 
doubtless ask, if David here speaks of his own sin, will 
it not force us to conclude that he was actually a sinner, 
not only as soon as he was born, but even before, for he 
was conceived in sin, as well as brought forth in iniquity ? 
I apprehend no such consequence will follow. We must 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 281 

give a true interpretation, but we are not always bound 
to interpret to the letter. David doubtless intended to 
express two facts : that he had a sinful nature, and that 
his nature descended to him from his parents through 
the medium of his birth. I say a sinful nature, by which 
I mean a nature that would certainly lead him to sin as 
soon as he was capable of it, be that when it may. Less 
than this, I think, the Psalmist certainly could not mean, 
and I see no evidence that he intended more. To be 
conceived in sin, is to be conceived in circumstances which, 
according to the course of nature, will infallibly issue in 
sin ; and to be born in iniquity, is only a strong expression 
for being brought forth with such a nature and in such 
circumstances as, according to a Divine constitution, can 
have no other moral result than a state of active and 
deep-rooted depravity. 

We adopt this interpretation, because we think it 
natural and agreeable to the usus loquendi, and because 
it presents the same view as taught elsewhere of the 
doctrine, that like begets like, in moral beings as well as 
in physical. Other passages from the Old Testament 
might be adduced, which fully accord with those 
already examined, but we have not time to consider 
them now. Let me turn your attention for a mo- 
ment to two or three passages in the New. I refer you 
first to John iii. 6, where our Lord teaches Nicodemus 
the necessity of the new birth : " That which is born of 
the flesh, is flesh ; and that which is born of the Spirit, 
is spirit. M lie had just said, " Except a man be born 
again, lie cannot see the kingdom of God." But Nico- 
demus, not understanding him, inquires, "How can a 
man be born when he is <>l<| 1 Can a man enter the 
second time into liis mother's womb and be horn \" as if 
Christ had spoken only of a natural birth. To correct 
this mistake, and t<> show that it was a moral ox spiritual 
birth which he intended, the Saviour replies, "Except 



2g2 ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

a man be born of water, and of the Spirit, he cannot en- 
ter into the kingdom of God." And why ? " For that 
which is born of the flesh, is flesh; and that which is born 
of the Spirit, is spirit ;" implying that man, by nature, or 
according to his frst birth, is altogether sinful, and there- 
fore needs a moral or spiritual change to fit him for the 
kingdom of God. Flesh and spirit in this passage are 
strongly antithetical, and if one relates to moral charac- 
ter, the other must do so also. But does anybody doubt 
that, to be born of the Spirit, is to undergo a moral change, 
to have a new heart, and thus be renewed after the 
image of God ? What, then, must it be to be born of the 
flesh, but to be born in a state of alienation from God, 
and under the dominion of sin — in other words, in a state 
of moral depravity ? Besides, it is expressly asserted 
that that which is born of the flesh, is flesh, and that 
which is born of the Spirit, is spirit. The effect in both 
cases partakes of the nature of the cause, and therefore 
receives the same name. From sinful human nature 
proceeds, by natural generation, that which is sinful; 
and from the Spirit of God proceeds, by a supernatural 
operation, that which is holy. In the one case man is 
born a sinner, in the other he is born a saint. The first birth 
is natural, because it takes place according to the course 
of nature, and is common to the species ; the second is 
supernatural, because it is an occurrence above or beyond 
nature, and is effected by the immediate and sovereign 
interposition of God. The old man has his origin in the 
one ; the new man his in the other. Now if we admit 
that the new man owes his existence to the second or 
spiritual birth, can we, according to the rules of sound 
interpretation, do otherwise than admit that the old man 
owes his existence to the first or natural birth ? But 
this is to admit all that we plead for, namely, that men 
derive their sinfulness from their birth, or, in other words, 
that they are born sinners. Nor let it be supposed that 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 283 

we are carried by this admission beyond the point 
heretofore contended for, namely, the certainty of sin 
from this source, not its coetaneous existence with the 
fact of man's birth. Such a coetaneous existence may 
or may not be, without affecting the nature of our argu- 
ment. Men sin as soon as they are moral agents, and 
that universally, let their moral agency commence when 
it may ; and this result is made certain by the law of 
propagation. This, we believe, our Lord plainly teaches 
in the passage under consideration, and all that he 
teaches, so far as natural generation is concerned. 

The celebrated John Taylor, of Norwich, has given a 
different interpretation of these words in his treatise on 
original sin. After repeating the words, " That which is 
born of the flesh, is flesh" his gloss is, " That which is born 
by natural descent and propagation, is a man, consisting of 
body and soul, or the mere constitution and powers of a 
man in their natural state. But President Edwards has 
shown with great force of argument, that such an inter- 
pretation is utterly inadmissible, because at war with the 
established use of the terms flesh and spirit, when set in 
opposition to each other in the New Testament, and 
when employed on the subject of the requisite qualifica- 
tions for salvation. And besides, he might have said, if 
he does not say it, that sucli an interpretation supplies 
no reason for the necessity of the new birth. It' men 
are not sinners by nature or born sinners, in the sense 
we hare explained, hut only born moral agents, it 
will not follow that, they need a new birth unto right- 
eousness; they may he righteous already, and righteOUS 

from the beginning, for aught that appears from Christ's 
declaration. Nay, but, says the Socinian, they must ac- 
quire a character, and a holj character, before (hey can 

enter into the kingdom of God, Yen true. Bui who 
knows that this character is not already acquired, and 
acquired as earl] as the] commenced their moral agency? 



2g4 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

Christ, by the supposition, says nothing to the contrary; 
and, of course, supplies no reason which makes it neces- 
sary for every man to be born of the Holy Spirit. And, 
farther, if the mere acquisition of a character not before 
possessed constitutes a new birth, are not sinners born 
again when they commence a course of sin ? In their 
natural birth they commenced moral agents, but without 
a character either as then existing, or as provided for or 
secured by this birth. When they began to sin, they 
acquired a moral character which was a second birth ; 
they were then regenerated, though not by the Holy 
Spirit. 

But the Scripture knows nothing of such a regenera- 
tion, and for this plain reason : it considers the first birth 
as involving sinful character, either at the moment of 
birth or as its unfailing result afterwards. 

Other glosses of this passage have been attempted, 
but none, I am persuaded, will abide the test of exami- 
nation, but that which we have advocated, and which 
clearly and decisively supports the doctrine of native de- 
pravity. 

The language of the apostle, Galatians iv. 29, may be 
referred to, as upholding the same sentiment : " But as 
then, he that was born after the flesh, persecuted him 
that was born after the Spirit, even so it is now." He 
that was born after the flesh, it is evident from the con- 
nection, was Ishmael, born, as Rosenmuller says, accord- 
ing to the common course of nature. He persecuted Isaac, 
who was a child of promise, and born after the Spirit, or 
after the Divine power, singularly manifested in his 
birth. " Even so" says the Apostle, " it is now." There 
are those who are born after the flesh, and who perse- 
cute those that are born after the Spirit. But who are 
these that are born after the flesh ? They are evidently 
Jews, who are the children of Abraham by natural de- 
scent, but who stand in no other relation to him, having 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 9§5 

never been born of the Spirit. They persecute those 
who, as true believers, are Abraham's seed, and who, as 
Isaac was, are born after another and extraordinary man- 
ner ; that is to say, are born of the Spirit. Here, then, 
are two births spoken of: one as natural and common, 
pertaining to the Jews in the apostle's time — another as 
spiritual, pertaining to true believers, and peculiar to 
them. The first is a birth unto sin, because it involves 
the malignant and persecuting spirit ; the second is a 
birth unto righteousness, because it is effected by the 
Holy Ghost, the author of a spiritual nature in all true 
believers, and because, too, by the fruits of righteous- 
ness which proceed from it, it awakens the hostility of 
the carnally minded, or of those who are born after the 
flesh. The contrast thus exhibited between the unbe- 
lieving Jews and the true believers in Christ, is a con- 
trast of moral character, and this character is represented 
as the result of their different and respective births — 
arising, in the one case, from being born after the flesh, 
in the other from being bom after the Spirit. Most cer- 
tainly, if the character of true Christians is here traced 
to their spiritual birth, the character of the unbelieving 
Jews is traced to their natural birth. They are born after 
the flesh, and therefore they will do the works of the flesh. 
Another passage which supports the same doctrine, is 
found in Ephesians ii. 3: "Among whom we all had our 
conversation in times past, in the lusts of our flesh, fulfill- 
ing the desires of the flesh and the mind, and were by 
nature children of wrath, even as others/ 1 

"Children of wrath/' says an able critic, "are men 
who deserve wrath/ 1 But why do they deserve it? 
Because they arc children of disobedience. That the 

Ephesians sustained this character to a wide and fearful 
extent antecedent to their conversion, the apostle's ac- 
count fully shows. They had t heir con\ ersation in the 
lusts of the flesh, and fulfilled the desires of the flesh 



285 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

and of the mind. They were hateful, and hating one 
another. But how came they to be of this odious char- 
acter ? Was it occasioned by example, or did they 
grow into it by custom ? Did the enemy of all right- 
eousness stimulate them to their evil deeds ? No doubt 
these causes had their influence in forming and finishing 
their depraved character. But there was another and 
deeper cause, and one which laid the foundation for 
these causes to operate ; and this the Apostle assigns, 
when he says that they "were by nature children of 
wrath, even as others/ 5 

By nature, I understand here, by birth. So the original 
word cpuCsj is used by the Apostles, Galatians, ii. 15: We 
who are Jews by nature, and not sinners of the Gentiles : 
that is, we who are born Jews. This is the original and 
primary meaning of the term according to Schleusner, 
and so employed by the best writers, several examples 
of which he has given us. It may also be remarked, 
that when this word is used by metonymy, it bears a sense 
strongly analogous to this, and signifies something which 
has its origin in generation or birth; and though it has 
sometimes a still wider import, it seems always to have 
respect to the natural state of things. But that we have 
given the true interpretation of the word in the passage 
before us, we think is evident from several circum- 
stances. It upholds a doctrine which the Apostle in 
various forms teaches elsewhere. It is agreeable to his 
own use of the word in other places, and especially in 
that of Galatians ii. 15. It makes him assign an appro- 
priate reason for that depravity of manners which char- 
acterized the Ephesians antecedent to their conversion ; 
since they were by nature inclined to that which was 
evil, born after the flesh, it was to be looked for that 
they would indulge in the lusts of the flesh. 

Besides, if this be not the meaning of the Apostle, to 
what purpose does he say that they were, by nature, 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 287 

children of wrath ? Their wickedness he had described 
before, and if he had no intention of tracing it to its 
source, why did he introduce the word nature at all? 
Having mentioned their abominable deeds, we might 
rather have expected him simply to declare that they 
were children of wrath, and not that they were such by 
nature. 

Some have .supposed by nature in this place, that the 
Apostle intended nothing more than custom or use ; mak- 
ing him to say that the Ephesians had indulged in all 
manner of evil, and were by custom and use the children 
of wrath even as others. But this is too far-fetched, and 
I may add, too absurd, to be seriously entertained. It 
was probably resorted to only as an escape from native 
or hereditary depravity. But there is no escape unless 
by a perversion of terms, unworthy of impartial inquiry 
and sober criticism. For allow the Apostle to say, as 
his words most obviously import, that men are, by nature, 
children of wrath, and there is no avoiding the con- 
clusion that he traces their depravity to their birth, as 
its certain and prolific source. 

Let me for a moment call your attention to 1 Corin- 
thians, ii. 14. "But the natural man receiveth not the 
things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto 
him: neither can he know them, because tliey are 
spiritually discerned." 

Who is intended here by the natural n ww\ I All but Pe- 
lagians* and men of Pelagian cast, will admit that, it .is I lie 

unrenewed man, in opposition to one that is renewed, and 
who is sometimes called spiritual because regenerated or 
bom <>f the Spirit. The natural man and (lie spiritual 

man are contrasted by the Apostle in this very connec- 
tion, which is sufficient evidence that by the natu/ralvoasa 
he intended the unrenewed voa& or man as lie is by nature, 
antecedent, to the sanctifying grace of God. The natural 

mm receiveth not the things of (he Spirit, he knoweth 



2gg ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

them not, neither can he know them, because they are 
spiritually discerned ; but the spiritual man judgeth all 
things. Being enlightened from above, he can discern 
the things of the Spirit so as no natural man can discern 
them; their intrinsic beauty and glory beam upon his 
eye, and call forth the purest and warmest feelings of 
his heart. This constitutes a radical and wide distinc- 
tion between the natural and spiritual man — a distinc- 
tion which holds not only between the renewed man 
and the sensualist, but equally between the renewed man 
and the unrenewed, however intellectual, moral ox refined 
the latter may be. To this no Calvinist will object ; 
and with the Pelagian we have at present no controver- 
sy. I ask, then, what is the import of the term natural 
as here applied to the unrenewed man, or man as he is 
by nature ? It will doubtless be conceded that it marks 
in him a state of deep and entire depravity, and that 
from the commencement of his moral existence. But is 
this all ? Does it not point us to the source of this de- 
pravity in the very nature he received at his birth ? It 
cannot for a moment be denied that he received a nature 
then, both 'physical and moral, whether all the powers 
and susceptibilities of it were developed at once or not ; 
nor can it be questioned that this nature laid a foundation 
both for the existence and the character of his moral 
acts. The fact, therefore, must be as the Apostle's words 
here seem to intimate, that man's aversion to spiritual 
things, nay, his blindness to their intrinsic beauty and 
excellence, is attributable to the nature he received at 
his birth, and consequently that he is, as the Apostle 
teaches elsewhere, by nature a sinner or a child of 
wrath. 

Nor will it avail, by way of objection, to say that the 
original word here translated natural is + U X'*°£ and not 
<putf»xos ? the more common and appropriate term for that 
which is natural — for + u x ,x ^ itself, like +w> from which 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 289 

it is derived, has often a meaning sufficiently broad to 
cover the intellectual and moral, as well as the animal 
part of man, and according to Schleusner, is so employed 
in the passage before us. Besides, if 4^X' x °s were more 
directly and properly descriptive of the animal part of 
man, it is not supposed by my opponents to be confined 
to his animal part, but like *«g£ and tfa^ixog to be compre- 
hensive of the whole man, and designed to mark his 
moral depravity, consist in what it may — whether in in- 
dulgence of animal appetite, or in any of the selfish and 
malignant passions. But the point to be looked at is, is 
man +^x' xo ^ DV nature ? Was he born such ? Every ani- 
mal is surely born, whether rational or irrational; every- 
thing which has a soul, and which lives by breathing, as 
the original word signifies, came into being with all its 
natural powers and propensities through the medium of 
birth. What more appropriate term, then, could the 
Apostle have used than he has used, to express the de- 
pravity of man, and to indicate that this depravity is 
original or derived from his birth ? 

It might be easy to show, that such phrases as the 
old man, contrasted with the new man — the law of sin, 
which is in the members, with the law of the spirit of life, 
in Christ .Jesus — the mind of the flesh, with the mind of 
the spirit — and other kindred forms of expression, derive 
a peculiar signilicancy and force, from the fad of man's 
inborn or native depravity. This fact supposed, and we 
see why these terms are employed, and whence they 
become so full of import <>n the pages of Revelation. 

But without (his, it is not easy to see how t hey came into 

use, and by what means they acquired that ngmficancy 
which v\i'Y\ sound interpreter gives them. But our 

limits will not ;dlow US to go into a particular illustra- 
tion. We conclude OUT examination of Scripture testi- 
mony on tin* subject of man's native depravity, by refer- 
19 



290 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

ring to some passages which fairly presuppose this, though 
they do not distinctly assert it. 

This doctrine is involved in the proposition, that like 
begets like, and the Scripture recognizes the truth of this 
proposition in the following passages : 1 John v. 1. 
"- Every one that loveth him that begat, loveth him also 
that is begotten of him." Why so ? How does this ap- 
pear to be a natural and just consequence ? Because, 
like begets like. This is a universal law ; and therefore 
he who is begotten of God is like God. Consequently, 
if we love the former we shall love the latter also. The 
propriety and force of this language depends wholly on 
the admitted fact of like father like son. See also the 
second chapter of this epistle, verse twenty-ninth. 
" If ye know that he is righteous (in God), ye know that 
every one that doeth righteousness is born of him" How 
should they know this, but upon the supposition that he 
who is begotten will bear the image of him who begat, 
and vice versa ? As if the Apostle had said, ye may 
know who the righteous man is bom of, from the very 
fact of his being righteous. His character is proof of 
his origin — that he was born of God. To the same ef- 
fect is chapter third, verse ninth : " Whosoever is born 
of God cannot commit sin ; for his seed remaineth in 
him, and he cannot sin because he is born of God." 
But why cannot he who is born of God commit sin ? 
Because a holy disposition is imparted to him by this 
new and heavenly birth. He is made to resemble God 
in his moral feelings and character. So also, chapter 
fourth, verse seventh : " Let us love one another, for 
every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth 
God." But how does it appear that every one that 
loveth is born of God ? Because God himself is love, 
and he that is born of him must be like him, if it be 
true, as the Apostle seemed to suppose, that like begets 
like, in things spiritual as well as in things natural 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 291 

But to all this it may be said, that mere moral re- 
semblance of one person to another, may lay the founda- 
tion for saying that one is the child of the other, and that 
on this principle it is men are sometimes called the 
children of God, and sometimes the children of the 
devil, without any reference being had to the deriva- 
tion of this resemblance. We cheerfully grant it. But 
this makes nothing against the argument, that deriva- 
tion by birth, whether natural or spiritual, is regarded 
in the Bible as a grand source of moral likeness. If 
mere resemblance calls up the relation supposed be- 
tween a parent and his offspring, as we admit is some- 
times the case, it is only because it is a known fact, 
that where this relation actually exists the resemblance 
is to be looked for, as a matter of course. 

In short, there could be no propriety in saying that 
men are the children of God, or the children of the 
devil, on the ground of resemblance, were it not an ad- 
mitted fact that where the relation of parent and child is 
actually found, there strong points of resemblance are sup- 
posed to be found also ; in other words, that like begets 
like. Lay this supposition out of view, and the figure 
has no foundation in nature, nor out of it. 

We have now finished our reference to the Scrip- 
tures, on the subject of like begetting lihr, and more 
especially as this proposition stands connected with the 
doctrine of man's native depravity. 

That the proof exhibited will be found satisfactory 
to all can hardly be expected; but tliat it is both clear 

and abundant J have, for myself) no sort of doubt. And 
here J should rest, without adding a word more, were 
it not that there are some popular objections, to which 
I wish to make a brief reply. 



LECTURE XII. 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY 



OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 

Objection First. To suppose that sin is propagated 
through the medium of birth or that man is born a sin- 
ner, is inconsistent with the very nature of sin. Sin is 
an act, and can an act be born 1 It is easy to conceive 
that a man may be born, with all the elements of his 
being ; but not his acts, and especially his free, moral acts. 
This objection, as old as Socinus, and perhaps as Pela- 
gius himself, we have always regarded as a mere quib- 
ble, intended chiefly for the purpose of throwing dust 
into the eyes. It is either a play upon the word born, 
or a total misconception of the meaning of that word. It 
goes upon the principle that nothing can be born which is 
not coeval with birth, and nothing in which the subject 
is not altogether passive. But I ask, where do we learn 
that nothing can be born with us, which is not coeval with 
birth ? We have shown, in preceding observations, that 
such a limitation of the phrase is not authorized by the 
current use of language in the Bible, or elsewhere. On 
the contrary, that whatever is provided for in our birth, 
and as a natural and unfailing consequence flows from it, 
may justly be said to be born, and born with us. And 
let me here add, that in conformity with this extended 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 293 

use of the term, we often say of one man, that he is born 
a prince, and of another, that he is bom a beggar — be- 
cause here is a state or condition provided for, by 
the very fact of being born, and by the circumstances 
in which this event takes place. In the one case, a man 
is born to dignity and honor ; in the other, to poverty 
and disgrace. Both inherit from their immediate progen- 
itors, yet the inheritance is widely different. But who 
supposes that the man born a beggar, begins to beg as 
soon as he is born 1 or that the man born a prince, comes 
at once into all the fullness and splendor of his fortune ? 
It is plain we never suppose this; yet we do suppose that 
their birth deeply affects their condition, and virtually 
makes them what they finally are. When we see a man 
full of noble daring on the one hand, or characterized 
by a weak and pusillanimous spirit on the other, we say 
he has a good right to it — it comes to him by inheritance 
— his father had the same spirit before him; or in other 
words, he was born courageous, or born a coward, as the 
case may be. Nobody understands us to say that these 
traits were developed at the moment of birth, but that 
birth laid a foundation for them, on the principle that 
Uke begets /Hie. In the same manner we understand the 
conn noil adage, " Poeta nascitur, non Jit;" and the 
phrase, this man was born <i thief, and that a villain. In 
all such cases, we mean that certain traits of mind and 
of character are natural to those who possess them, and 
came to them by descent. To suppose, therefore, with 

the Objector, that nothing is horn or inherited l>\ descent, 
but what is coeval with birth, is entirely to mistake the 
nature of the subject, and l<> misinterpret the Language 

sanctioned by long and unquestionable usage. 

As to the second pari of the difficulty made by this 
objection, to wit; that an ac( cannot he horn, because 
that only which i^ />>i>.<in can be the subject of such a 
predicate, this will easily be disposed of, especially with 



294 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

those who advocate the doctrine of active regeneration. 
If to be born of the Word and of the Spirit does not ex- 
clude our activity, why should it be thought that to be 
born of the flesh excludes it ? Is there no analogy in these 
cases 1 or is it so, indeed, that everything pertaining to 
the natural birth comes to us without our agency, and 
even excludes it ; while in the spiritual birth, the order of 
things is entirely reversed, and our own agency here 
becomes the principal thing ? If the fact be so, I should 
like to see the proof of it, and know by what secret and 
wonder-working power it is, that words, kindred in their 
form, change, all at once, and so radically, their obvious 
and legitimate import. Till I am farther enlightened on 
the subject, I shall be disposed to think that such an ar- 
bitrary use of terms looks more like catering for a sys- 
tem, than honestly expounding the Word of God, or even 
the language of common life. 

Doubtless there is a difference between the two births — 
their causes are different, and their results are different. 
They are not brought about by the same means, but 
they are expressed by the same terms ; nor is it to be 
doubted that one is strongly analogous to the other. 
They both involve moral character, if not as immediately ', 
yet just as certainly." For that which is born of the flesh 
is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.'* 
And if they involve moral character, why not moral acts, 
either at the moment when birth takes place, or at a 
subsequent period. Were it proved that infants are 
moral agents as soon as they are born, it would follow, 
from Christ's words, that their sin is coeval with their 
birth, and that to be born a human being and born a sinner 
could not be separated, either in point of time or in point 
of fact. Let this be as it may, however, Christ's lan- 
guage covers the fact that men are born sinners ; because 
if they do not sin the moment they are born, their birth 
makes their sin certain, in the natural order of things, 






ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 295 

and that as soon as their moral agency commences. In 
their birth they receive a constitution, and are placed in 
circumstances which infallibly issue in sin. Who can 
deny this ? But this admitted, and all is granted that we 
contend for, to wit, that men are born to sin as surely 
as they are born to be moral agents. They will act 
morally as soon as the powers of their moral being permit, 
and the character of their acts will be decided by their 
birth ; " for they are the degenerate plants of a strange 
vine," to borrow the expression of one of our opponents. 
But it may be said, this is to suppose that their sin 
originates in a cause out of their control, and anterior to 
their volition. Jind what if it does ? How is this to 
be avoided ? unless we resort to one of two absurdities, 
either that their sin has no cause, notwithstanding the 
uniformity and certainty of its occurrence, or that it was 
caused by some act of their own which was neither 
sinful nor voluntary ; and yet, to suppose such an act, if 
it were not absurd in itself, would be to suppose some- 
thing which is as much beyond the control of the mind, 
as the motion of a comet or the rising and setting of the 
stars. The truth is, there is no avoiding the stubborn 
fact, that sin lias a cause, unless we deny moral causation 
al together, and betake ourselves to the self-determining 
power of the will. But if we allow sin to have ;i cause, 
where c;ui it lie, but in our own powers and susceptibil- 
ities, and in the objects which excite tliem | We may 
say, indeed, that God is the cause, and that by his imme- 
diate and positive efficiency; hut then neither the Bible 

nor sound philosophy will sustain the position. But, 

Secondly, If sin is propagated through the medium of 

our birth, how comes it to pass that the Christian virtue S 
are not propagated by the same law I Nobody pretends 
that faith and repentance, and ot leu- ( liristian graces, are 
transmitted by birth. Verv true; and there is good 

reason for it facta are not for hut against such an opin- 



296 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

ion. Besides, let me say that those who make this 
objection are either ignorant of the great law of propa- 
gation, or have not carefully adverted to its leading 
principles. Its object is to preserve the identity of the 
species, not to transmit individual peculiarities. What- 
ever is common to the race, and forms in it a permanent 
characteristic, is transmitted from one generation to an- 
other • not what is adventitious, what occurs as the result 
of education, or as the effect of some new and extraor- 
dinary cause. We expect, therefore, to see in the off- 
spring the same number of limbs, and the same general 
features, as distinguished the parent, provided these are 
common characteristics of the race, and not the result of 
some adventitious cause. But we do not expect to see 
individual peculiarities, and especially those which are 
not constitutional ; because facts tell us these are not 
transmitted to posterity. 

Now faith and repentance, and other Christian virtues, 
come not from nature, but from grace ; they are neither 
common nor permanent characteristics of the species, but 
individual peculiarities, superinduced by a peculiar and 
extraordinary cause. To suppose them propagated, 
therefore, would be to violate the order of nature, and 
intrench upon the known laws of propagation, so clearly 
defined and so steadily pursued among all the animal 
and vegetable tribes. So far, then, is the fact alleged in 
the obj-ection, from being an argument against the doc- 
trine of native depravity, it is a confirmation of it, since it 
shows the case in all respects to be, as we might justly 
expect on the supposition that the doctrine is true. 

Third. Again, it is thought to be an appalling objec- 
tion to the doctrine of transmitted depravity, that they who 
defend it fail in their analogies as often as they com- 
pare this transmission with other instances of propagated 
qualities ; for the latter have nothing of the uniformity and 
extent which is assigned to original and propagated sin. 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 297 

That many qualities which appear to be propagated 
from father to son, are not as universal as the whole 
human family, we must certainly admit. We readily 
grant that ajlat nose, a curled pate, and a black skin, though 
evidently propagated, are not as universal as head and 
shoulders, eyes and ears ; but does this furnish the least 
argument that the latter characteristics are not propa- 
gated also, and propagated by descent ? What has 
uniformitij or extent to do in this matter, provided the 
properties and qualities in question have the appropriate 
marks or signatures of propagation, showing that they 
are the product of nature, not of art or circumstance ? 
The various instincts, tastes and dispositions, which we 
remark among animals or among men, and which, so far 
as we can judge, are hereditary, may very strikingly 
represent that disposition to moral evil so characteristic 
of mankind, though it were admitted that the latter is of 
wider universality than any of the former. This differ- 
ence of extent supplies not the shadow of an objection 
against the justness and the fairness of the analogy. 

But the advocates for transmitted depravity do not 
confine their analogies to qualities limited to a part of 
the race, but embrace in their comparison qualities as 
universal as the species. They contend that sin is as 
natural to man as to eat or to drink, to be hungry or 
thirsty; that his moral character is as truly derived from 
\\\< birth — that character, we mean, which LS original and 

primary— as the powers of Ins moral being, Ids reason, 
conscience, or any other faculty. The objection, there- 
fore, of the wain of u injur, mf ij and extent in the analogies 
appealed to in favor of hereditary sin, is, in every point 
of virw , impertinent, and w ithouf avail. 

Fourth* Some have found great difficulty in this doc- 
trine, because, say they, according to its advocates, it. is 
made to depend, not on onr immediate ancestor, but 

upon our connection with Adam. 



298 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 



I cannot but suspect some mistake here. For no en 
lightened advocate for the doctrine in question would 
be apt to say that sin was hereditary, and yet not hered- 
itary; that it comes to all by generation or natural de- 
scent, and yet that natural descent has nothing to do 
with it, as surely it cannot have, if the depravity of the 
child is no way connected with the depravity of the 
parent from whom he has descended. The truth un- 
questionably is, that we are all connected with Adam, and 
that his one offence brought sin upon us all ; " for by the 
disobedience of one, many were made sinners." But 
how are we connected with him, unless by the fact of our 
being his posterity — his natural descendants ? But can 
we be his descendants, without descending from him 
through the medium of intervening generations, and 
consequently without derivation from our immediate 
parents, one of those generations ? It must be strange, 
therefore, to say that our depravity depends on our con- 
nection with Adam, but not on our immediate ancestor, 
when it obviously depends on both; seeing our very 
connection with Adam depends on the relation we hold 
to our immediate ancestor, as one of his descendants. 
But if any man has been incautious or absurd enough to 
make the statement objected to, the doctrine of native 
depravity itself ought not to be drawn into question in 
consequence of it. It needs no such statement for its 
defence, nor is it in the remotest degree connected with 
any such view of the case. 

Fifth. Another objection to this doctrine is found in 
the language of those who describe the depravity of our 
nature as something uniform and invariable in all cir- 
cumstances, ages and individuals, implying, as the ob- 
jector supposes, that this depravity is equal in all cases, 
and strictly immutable, being incapable either of addition 
or diminution. But the whole difficulty here lies in 
giving an extent of meaning to the terms uniform and 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 299 

invariable, which nobody ever dreamed of or imagined 
but the objector himself. Were I to say that reason or 
conscience, or natural affection, is a uniform and invariable 
characteristic of man, found in all circumstances, ages 
and individuals, where the proper period has arrived for 
its development, would any person understand me to 
assert that reason, or conscience or affection, was precisely 
the same thing in all men, at all times and in all circum- 
stances, so that no diversity whatever could exist as to 
modification or extent ? Nothing, surely, could be more 
strained or absurd than such a construction of my 
words. 

Objection sixth. We are told, says an objector, that 
original sin is the cause and ground of all actual sin; and 
yet that original sin is equal, uniform and invariable, in 
all. Of course that all are equally depraved, and under 
like temptations must exhibit the very same degree of 
wickedness, a thing which every one knows is contrary 
to fact. This is another appalling objection ; but the 
whole force of it depends upon the strained interpreta- 
tion put upon the words equal, uniform and invariable. 
Give them the import which, in all such connections, 
they are manifestly designed to have, and no such absurd 
or contradictory consequence as the objection contem- 
plates will ever follow. Natural affection, in a very im- 
portant sense of the term, is uniform and inniriahb — -t lint 
is, it belongs to all as a constitutional principle, provided 
for in the very elements of their being ; bat it does not 
always exist with the same strength of intensity. It is, 
moreover, equally true of all, so thai there is an equality 

in men in this respect, and not ;i disparity. Nobody 
contends that it hns exactly the same force in all, and at 
all times; nor is there a man on earth, I presume, that 
contends that original sin has the same force in all, and 
at all times, if hy original sin he meant depravity of 
heart, and depravity hy nature. It is true that men are 



300 0N NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 

equally destitute of original righteousness. Here there 
is no disparity ; but as to their readiness and eagerness 
to sin, and to sin in a gross and high-handed manner, 
there is undoubtedly a difference, which the abettor of 
original sin may as cheerfully and frankly admit as his 
opponent. 

Seventh. We are asked, too, and with an air of tri- 
umph, " If Adam's sin be propagated in the way of natu- 
ral generation, why were not his other sins, (as well as hi* 
first one,) committed before the procreation of his chil- 
dren, propagated to his descendants? and so his penitence 
and pardon in like manner 1 

Whether such a question was put from oversight or 
design, it may be hard to say ; but that the point in de- 
bate is overlooked is most certain. The question in dis- 
pute is, not whether a single act, or more acts than one, 
are transmitted by propagation, but whether a similar 
nature, as the cause of similar acts, is so transmitted ? 
When we speak of reason or conscience, as born with a 
man, or propagated from father to son, we have no refer- 
ence to this or that particular act of reason or conscience, 
but to the principles from which such acts flow, and by 
consequence to the acts themselves, Reason or con- 
science, we say, is propagated, because involved in that 
very constitution which appertains to a rational and moral 
being, and which every man derives from his birth ; and 
having this constitution he is sure to develop it, not in 
another's acts but his own, and in such acts as corre- 
spond to the powers of reason and conscience which he 
has received. In like manner, those who believe that 
sin is propagated, do not believe that this or that sin, 
considered as the personal act of another, is propagated, 
but only a moral nature, so circumstanced as to secure a 
sinful conduct in those to whom this nature appertains. 

With this explanation of the true nature of the case, 
it will be easily seen that the objection implied in the 



ON NATIVE DEPRAVITY. 30 1 

above question has no foundation, but in the abuse of 
terms. 

Eighth. And the same may be said of another objec- 
tion, taken from the same author, namely : " If propaga- 
tion be the ground of transmitting sin, then why are not 
all the sins of all our ancestors, from Adam down to our- 
selves, brought down upon us, and propagated to us ?" 
Sure enough. But here the mistake is the same as be- 
fore ; individual acts are supposed to be propagated from 
one person to another, and not constitutional principles 
with their attendant circumstances, from which like or 
similar acts flow. A nature may be transmitted by pro- 
pagation, along with the being who inherits it ; but not 
the personal act of one, so as to become the personal 
act of another. This would be to confound all notions 
of personal distinction, and individual responsibility. No 
defender of the doctrine of native or hereditary depravity, 
has occasion to [resort to any such absurdity. And to 
suppose that he has, is to misinterpret the doctrine, and 
to apply^to it language which it neither justifies nor em- 
ploys. 



LECTURE XIII. 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 



Whether Christ died for all men, or for a part only ? 
is a question which has been much agitated, since the 
Reformation, though, according to Milner, the Church, 
from the earliest ages, rested in the opinion that Christ 
died for all. He does not except even Augustine, whom 
Prosper, his admirer and follower, and a strict Predesti- 
narian, represents as maintaining that Christ gave him- 
self a ransom for all ;■* so far, at least, as to make pro- 
vision for their salvation, by removing an impediment 
which would otherwise have proved fatal. The early 
Christians seemed to go upon the principle, that as sal- 
vation was indiscriminately tendered to all, it must have 
been provided for all, and thus made physically possible to 
all, where the Gospel comes ; otherwise, the Deity would 
be represented as tendering that to his creatures which 
was in no sense within their reach, and which they could 
not possibly attain, whatever might be their dispositions. 

Among those who leaned strongly to what are called 
the doctrines of grace, the maxim was adopted, " That 
Christ's death was sufficient for all, and efficient for the elect. " 
By which they seem to have intended, that while Christ's 

•Vol. II., page 445. 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 303 

death opened the door for the salvation of all, so far as 
an expiatory sacrifice was concerned, it was designed, 
and by the sovereign grace of God, made effectual, to the 
salvation of the elect. Their belief was, that Christ 
died intentionally to save those who were given to him 
in the covenant of redemption ; but it does not appear 
that they supposed his death, considered merely as an 
expiatory offering, had any virtue in it, in relation to the 
elect, which it had not in relation to the rest of mankind. 
With respect to the ultimate design of this sacrifice, or the 
application which God would make of it, they doubtless 
supposed there was a difference ; but in the sacrifice itself, 
or in its immediate aid, the demonstration of God's righteous- 
ness, they could see no difference. In this view, it was 
precisely the same thing, as it stood related to the elect 
and to the non-elect. The sacrificial service was one and 
the same, appointed by the same authority, and for the 
same immediate purpose, and performed by the same 
glorious Personage, at the very same time. It wanted 
nothing to constitute it a true and perfect sacrifice for 
sin, as it stood related to the whole world ; it was but 
this true and perfect sacrifice, as it stood related to the 
elect. Any other view would have overturned its suffi- 
ciency for all mankind ; for it was not the sufficiency of 
Christ to be a sacrifice, but his sufficiency as a sacrifice for 
the whole world, that they maintained. And in perfect 
accordance with this, they held that this most perfect 
sacrifice was efficient for the elect. But how was it effi- 
cient ? Not by its having in it anything in regard to the 
elect which it had not in regard to others ; for, uitruisirally 
considered, it was (he same to both, a true and prrfrt 
sacrifice for sin; but it was the purpose of God, in ap- 
pointing it, that it should issue in the salvation of his 
chosen. This was the use he intended to make of it ; 

nay, it w;is ;i purt of the covenant of redemption, that 
if the Mediator performed the sacrificial service required, 



304 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

he should see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied. 
There was, therefore, an infallible connection between 
the death of Christ and the salvation of his people ; and, 
of course, his death was efficient in procuring their salva- 
tion, it being the great medium through which the saving 
mercy of God flowed, and connected both by the pur- 
pose and promise of God with the bestowment of that 
mercy. 

But even all this does not suppose that the death of 
Christ, considered simply as a sacrifice for sin, had any- 
thing in it peculiar to the elect, or that in and of itself it 
did anything for them which it did not do for the rest of 
mankind. The intention of God, as to its application, or 
the use he designed to make of it, is a thing perfectly 
distinct from the sacrifice itself, and so considered, as we 
believe, by the Church antecedent to the Reformation. 
In no other way, can we see, how their language is 
either intelligible or consistent. 

Whether the Reformers, as they are called, were ex- 
actly of one mind on this subject, is not quite so certain. 
But that Luther, Melancthon, Osiander, Brentius, (Ecolam- 
padius, Zwinglius and Bucer, held the doctrine of a gene- 
ral atonement, there is no reason to doubt. We might 
infer it from their Confession at Marpurge, signed a . d. 
1529, as the expressions they employ on this subject are 
of a comprehensive character, and best agree with this 
sentiment. From their subsequent writings, however, 
it is manifest that these men, and the German Reformers 
generally, embraced the doctrine of a universal propitia- 
tion. Thus, also, it was with their immediate successors, 
as the language of the Psalgrave Confession testifies. 
This Confession is entitled, " A Full Declaration of the 
Faith and Ceremonies professed in the dominions of the 
most illustrious and noble Prince Frederick V., Prince 
Elector Palatine." It was translated by John Rolte, and 
published in London, a. d. 1614. 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3Q5 

"Of the power and death of Christ, believe we" say 
these German Christians, that the death of Christ (whilst 
he being not a bare man, but the Son of God, died,) is a 
full, aU-sLifficient payment, not only for our sins, but for 
the sins of the whole world ; and that he by his death hath 
purchased not only forgiveness of sins, but also the new 
birth by the Holy Ghost, and lastly everlasting life." 
But we believe therewith, that no man shall be made 
partaker of such a benefit, but only he that believeth on 
him. For the Scripture is plain where it saith, " He 
that believeth not shall be damned." 

It would be unnecessary to take up your time to show 
that the Lutheran divines, with scarcely a single excep- 
tion, from that period to the present, have declared in 
favor of a universal atonement. It could scarcely be 
otherwise when we consider the great reverence in 
which they held their distinguished leader, who, on vari- 
ous occasions, expressed himself most decidedly upon 
this subject. To give but a single instance. While 
speaking of the blood of Christ, the inestimable price 
paid for our redemption, (in his commentary on 1 Peter, 
i. 18,) he remarks that no understanding or reason of 
man can comprehend it : so valuable was it, " that a single 
drop of this most innocent and precious blood was abund- 
antly sufficient for the sins of the whole world. JJut it 
pleased the Father so largely to bestow his grace upon 
us, and to make such abundant provision lor our salva- 
tion, that he willed that Christ his Son should pour forth 
all his blood, and at (he same time to give this whole 
treasure to u<." 

We know what the opinion of the Church of England 

was, by the language of her thirty-first article, which is 
in these words: '-The offering of Christ once made, is 

that perfect redemption, propitiation, and satisfaction, for aO 
the sins of tfk whei world, both original and actual; and 

there is none other satisfaction for sin, but that alone ; " 
20 



306 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

and with this agree the words of the Heidelberg Cate- 
chism, in the thirty-seventh question, which state that 
" Christ bore, both in body and mind, the weight of the 
wrath of God, for the sins of all mankind" to the end that 
by his sufferings as a propitiatory sacrifice, he might re- 
deem our bodies and souls from eternal damnation, and 
acquire for us the grace of God, justification and eternal 
life." 

We are well aware that many who have expounded 
this catechism, have adopted more limited views; and 
that towards the close of the sixteenth century, there 
was not a little zeal displayed, in some of the Reformed 
Churches, in Germany and Holland, and other parts of 
Europe, in defence of what was called particular redemp- 
tion. Yet, in the Synod of Dort, there were many able 
advocates for the doctrine that Christ died for all, in the 
only sense in which it is contended for now, by that 
part of the Calvinistic school who plead for a general pro- 
pitiation. The delegates from England, Hesse and Bre- 
men, were explicit in their declaration to this effect. But 
all were not of the same mind ; and, therefore, though 
they agreed upon a form of words, under which every 
man might take shelter, still it wears the appearance of 
a compromise, and is not sufficiently definite to satisfy 
the rigid inquirer. 

But some may be curious to know in what light this 
subject was viewed by Calvin, a man who, from the ex- 
tent of his erudition, and the vigor of his faculties, exerted 
a mighty influence over his cotemporaries, and the gen- 
erations which succeeded him. Seldom, indeed, has the 
world seen such a man. Fearless, as he was able, he 
examined every subject with care, and penetrated far- 
ther into the great doctrines of the Gospel, probably, 
than any other divine of that or of preceding ages. 
What did he think of the doctrine of atonement ? Did 
he consider it in the light of a universal provision for 



EXTENT OF THE ATOSEMEXT. 



307 



the whole human race, or did he suppose it restricted 
in its very nature to the elect ? In his Institutes, which 
he wrote in early life, and which display an astonishing 
measure both of talent and research, some have supposed 
that he favored the doctrine of a particular or limited 
atonement. The truth, however, is, so far as I can jud°-e, 
that he carefully avoids committing himself on this point, 
and uses language on all occasions of such a general and 
indeterminate character, that it is not easy to discover 
what were his real sentiments. The probability is, that 
the subject had not then been much agitated, and that 
he thought it enough to keep to the language which was 
generally adopted by the Church. He often asserts 
that the death of Christ was a full and perfect sacrifice 
for sin — that it takes away sin — that he died for us — and 
that we are purged by his blood ; but he does not teach 
that any man's sins are put away until he believes, but 
he plainly teaches the contrary. Having occasion to 
quote these words of the Apostle, " Being justified freely 
by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ 
Jesus ; whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation 
through faith m his blood," he remarks, "Here Paul 
celebrates the grace of God, because he lias given the 
pice of our redemption in the death of Christ ; and then 
enjoins us to betake ourselves to his Mood, thai we ma\ 
obtain righteousness, and may stand secure before the 
judgment of God." But why betake ourselves to his 
blood, tliiit we may obtain righteousness or justification, 
if his death, considered simply as b sin-offering, actually 

took away OUT sin, and reconciled us to God? For 

myself, I have no doubt that he considered the sprink- 
ling of Christ's blood as essential to a real and effectivt 
propitiation as the shedding of it. His Wood shed was 

the meritorious cause of our reconciliation, or the grand 

means by w lucli it \\;is effected; but this effect WBB 

never actually produced but in cases wbere his blood 



308 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 



was sprinkled or applied, and that this blood is applied 
in no case antecedent to faith, and without faith. His 
doctrine, then, appears to me to be this : That Christ's 
death was the only full and perfect sacrifice for sin ; that 
as such, it laid the foundation for God to be propitious 
to a world of sinners, even the whole human family; 
but that it actually reconciled him to none, so as to take 
away their sin and entitle them to life, till they repented 
and believed; but that to all such there is an actual pro- 
pitiation, an effective reconcilement or at-one-ment, because 
by faith they lay their hands upon the head of the bleed- 
ing victim, and his blood is sprinkled upon them or ap- 
plied to their souls. But whatever might have been his 
opinions in early life, his commentaries, which were the 
labors of his riper years, demonstrate in the most un- 
equivocal manner that he received and taught the doc- 
trine of a general or universal atonement. This is dis- 
tinctly asserted by Dr. Watts, and several striking 
examples of his interpretation given. But having ex- 
amined for myself, I am prepared to say that he takes 
the ground of an universal atonement in almost every 
controverted text on this subject in the New Testament. 
Hear him on Matthew xxvi. 28 : " This is my blood of 
the New Testament, which is shed for many for the 
remission of sins." " Under the name of many," says 
Calvin, " he designates not a part of the world only, but 
the whole human race. For he opposes many to one, 
as if he should say he would be the Redeemer, not of 
one man, but would suffer death that he might liberate 
many from the guilt of the curse. Nor is it to be doubted 
that Christ, in addressing the few, designed to make his 
doctrine common to the many. Nevertheless, it is at 
the same time to be noted, that in distinctly addressing 
his disciples in Luke, he exhorts all the faithful to appro- 
priate the shedding of his blood to their own use. 
While, therefore, we approach the sacred table, not 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3Q9 

only this general thought should come into the mind, 
that the world is redeemed by Christ's blood, but that every 
one for himself should reckon his own sins to be expi- 
ated." He expounds John viii. 16 in accordance with 
the same views. " God so loved the world that he gave his 
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not 
perish, but have eternal life." By the world, according to 
him, we are to understand " genus humanum," the human 
race collectively, and not the elect as a distinct portion 
of the world. God hath affixed,- saith he, a mark of uni- 
versality to his words on this occasion, " both that he 
might invite all promiscuously to the participation of life, 
and that he might cut off excuse to the unbelieving ;" 
and this universality is indicated, he tells us, not only 
by the term whosoever, but by the term world. " For though 
God finds nothing in the world worthy of his favor, 
nevertheless he shows himself propitious to the whole world, 
since he calls all men without exception to faith in Christ, 
which is nothing else than an entrance into life." 

His remarks on 1 Corinthians viii. 11, 12, are still 
more decisive. " And through thy knowledge shall thy 
weak brother perish for whom Christ died" Here the 
question is, what is meant by the weak brother perish- 
ing? Calvin's paraphrase is, "If the soul of every weak 
person w;is the purchaser of the blood of Christ, ho that 
for the sake of a little meat plunges his brother again into 
death who was redeemed by Christ, shows at how moan a 
rate he esteems the blood of Christ." His observations <>n 
Hebrews x. 26, -<wr of the same decisive character. Paul 
declares "thai ifvn sin willfully after thatwt havt received 
the knowledge of the truth, then remaineth no mon sacrifice 
for sins" 'This Calvin interpreted of those who openly 

apostatize from the truth ;unl renounce their Christian 

profession— and to such, he says, there is no more a sacri- 
fice for sins, because they have departed from the death 

of Christ and treated it. with sacrilegious contempt— but 



310 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

to sinners of any other description, even to lapsed Chris- 
tians " Christ daily offers himself, so that no other sacri- 
fice need to be sought for the expiation of their 
sins." 

It is obvious that Calvin considered apostates as stand- 
ing in a different relation to the death of Christ from 
what they once did, and different from that of other sin- 
ners under the dispensation of the Gospel. That once 
his death might be regarded as a sacrifice for sin, avail- 
able for them, but now it was otherwise ; having des- 
pised him and being rejected of God, there remained to 
them neither this sacrifice nor any other, but only a fear- 
ful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation which 
shall consume the adversaries. 

Again, on 1 John ii. 2, " He is the propitiation for our 
sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole 
world." Here," says Calvin, " a question is raised, how 
the sins of the whole world were atoned for ? Some 
have said that Christ suffered for the whole world sufficient- 
ly, hut for the elect alone efficaciously. This is the common 
solution of the schools, and though I confess this is a truth, 
yet I do not think it agrees to this place." 

See also on 2 Peter ii. 1, " There shall be false teachers 
among you who privily shall bring in damnable heresies, 
even denying the Lord that bought them, and bring upon 
themselves swift destruction." Upon this, Calvin remarks, 
" Though Christ is denied in various ways, yet, in my 
opinion, Peter means the same thing here that Jude ex- 
presses, namely, that the grace of God is turned into 
lasciviousness. For Christ has redeemed us that he 
might have a people free from the defilements of the 
world, and devoted to holiness and innocence. Who- 
ever, therefore, shake off the yoke and throw them- 
selves into all licentiousness, are justly said to deny 
Christ, by whom they were redeemed" 

To the same purpose are his remarks on Jude, verse 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3H 

fourth : " Turning the grace of God into lasciviousness, 
and denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus 
Christ." " His meaning is," says Calvin, " that Christ 
is really denied when those who were redeemed by his 
blood again enslave themselves to the devil, and as far as 
in them lies, make that incomparahle price vain and in- 
effectual." 

It is but candid, however, to allow that in some pas- 
sages where the word all is brought into question, this 
writer supposes that it signifies all of every kind, or all 
sorts, rather than all, every one. But this he might easily 
do and consistently maintain as the doctrine of the New 
Testament, that the death of Christ was a full and per- 
fect sacrifice for the sins of all men absolutely. This 
doctrine he most certainly did maintain, as several of the 
extracts from his writings now presented clearly evince. 
We need not be afraid, therefore, that our Calvinism 
will be essentially marred by holding the doctrine of a 
general propitiation, unless we wish to be more Calvinistic 
than John Calvin himself. But as we should call no man 
master, upon earth, but examine for ourselves, and take 
our opinions from the living oracles, let us hear what 
the Scriptures say upon this subject. 

To facilitate our inquiries, I propose to consider the 
truth of the following positions : 

First. That the death of Christ was a true and proper 
sacrifice for sin. 

Second, That though his death wa< of vicarious import, 

Bfl wore the ancient siii-ofieriiurs, ye! it was not strictly 

vicarious. 

Third, That this sacrifice bore such a relation to the 
sins of men, that b wraj was thereby opened for the 
restoration of the whole human family to the favor of 
God. 

Should these propositions turn out to be true, we 



312 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

shall be at no loss how to answer the question which 
stands at the head of this lecture. 

First. As to the first position, that Christ's death was a 
true and proper sacrifice for sin, there will be no dispute, 
as this is common ground to all Calvinists, and to all, 
indeed, who do not virtually give up the doctrine of 
atonement. Still it may be well to remark that the lan- 
guage of Scripture, on this subject, is clear and precise. 
Christ is called the Lamb of God, which taketh away the 
sins of the world. He is said to have given himself for us, an 
offering and a sacrifice to God. It is affirmed that he 
needed not, like the high priests under the law, to offer up 
sacrifice daily, first for his own sins, and then for the sins of 
the people ; for this he did once when he offered up himself. 
He is expressly called the propitiation for our sins, and God 
is said to have sent him into the world for the purpose 
of making propitiation, and of making it by his death. 
The whole system of Jewish sacrifices, as well as Patri- 
archal, w x ere but types of his one great sacrifice when he 
offered up himself, and demonstrate his death to be a 
true and proper expiatory offering. But this is a point on 
all hands conceded. 

Second. Was his death, then, of vicarious import sim- 
ply ? or was it strictly vicarious ? 

That it was of vicarious import cannot reasonably be 
denied, if we compare it with the legal sacrifices, or at- 
tend to the express language of Scripture on the subject. 

The victims under the law were vicarious offerings ; 
they suffered in the room and stead of the offerer, and 
thus far there was a transfer, not of sin or guilt, strictly 
speaking, but of its penal effects ; suffering and death, 
only, were transferred, and this is what is meant by 
putting the iniquities of the sinner upon the head of the 
victim, and of the victim's bearing the iniquities of the 
sinner. 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3^3 

To suppose a literal transfer, either of sin or of punish- 
tnent, would be to suppose something which is entirely 
unauthorized by the language of Scripture, and at the 
same time to involve the absurdity of making a man and 
even a beast guilty by proxy. Sin, guilt, ill-desert, are 
in the very nature of things personal ; and punishment 
presupposes guilt, and guilt in the subject ; neither the 
one nor the other is properly transferable. Or, to use 
the language of Magee : " Guilt and punishment cannot 
be conceived but with reference to consciousness which 
cannot be transferred." 

While we would maintain, therefore, that the suffer- 
ings of Christ were of vicarious import, because he suf- 
fered in the room of sinners, and bore the indications of 
Divine wrath for their sakes, we cannot subscribe to the 
opinion that they were strictly vicarious, if by this is 
meant that the sins of those for whom he suffered, their 
personal desert and their punishment were literally trans- 
ferred to him. We maintain the doctrine of substitution, 
but not such a substitution as implies a transfer of char- 
acter, and consequently of desert and punishment. This 
we think to be impossible ; and unnecessary, if not impos- 
sible. It was enough that there should be a transfer 
of sufferings, and these, not exactly in hind, degree, or 
duration, but in all their circumstances amounting to a 
full equivalent in their moral effect upon the govern- 
ment of (iod. We hold that .Jesus died in the room of 

the guilty, that though innocent himself, lie was modi sin 
for us, or treated as a sinner on our account, and in our 
stead; that the Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all, 

and thai he here our sins in his own body on tin 4 tree, 

by suffering wh&i was a foil equivalent to the punishment 
due to our offences. But this, we think, is all the sub- 
stitution which the Scriptures teach, all that the nature 
of things will admit, and all that was necessary <<> effect, 

the same moral ends in the government of GrOd which 



3]4 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

would have been effected by inflicting on the trans- 
gressor the penal sanctions of his law. This brings us to 
our third position. 

Third. That the sacrifice of Christ bore such a relation 
to the sins of men — that a way was thereby opened for 
the restoration of the whole human family to the favor 
of God. 

I say the sins of men, for it does not appear that his 
sacrifice bore any specific relation to the sins of the rebel 
angels. For them no sacrifice was appointed, but justice 
seized at once upon its victims, and thrust them down to 
hell, where they are reserved in chains under darkness 
unto the judgment of the great day. And but for a sac- 
rifice, which did honor to the Divine Law, and rendered 
it consistent for a holy God to treat with rebellious man, 
it is not easy to see why the arm of justice was not up- 
lifted to avenge its insulted rights, in the immediate and 
interminable punishment of our apostate race. Be this, 
however, as it may, it is an undeniable fact, that Jesus 
took not on him the nature of angels, but the seed of 
Abraham, and was in all things made like unto his 
brethren of the human family. In that very nature in 
which the law of God had been broken and dishonored, 
did Jesus appear to put away sin, by the sacrifice of 
himself. But this, it will be said, it behoved him to do, 
if he were to expiate the sins of his people only, and if 
his death had not the remotest reference to the sins of 
the finally lost. Granted : but must it not also be 
allowed, that if he had intended to make provision for 
the whole human family by pouring out his blood, it be- 
hoved him neither to be nor to do anything more than 
he actually did? As a Person of infinite dignity, he 
accomplished that very service in that very nature, and in 
all those circumstances of touching interest, which alone 
would have been requisite had he intended to make 
atonement for the whole world absolutely. This is so 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3 15 

obvious as generally to be admitted. It is allowed on 
all hands, that he atoned for all sorts of persons, of all 
nations and all ages of the world ; and that the sacrifice 
he offered was of sufficient value to have redeemed the 
whole human race. But how did he atone for any, but 
by obeying the law in that very nature in which they had 
disobeyed it, and by suffering in that very nature, a moral 
equivalent to the evil which they had deserved to suffer, 
as the just award of the same righteous law ? But this 
nature, let it be remembered, is the common nature of 
man, and if by rendering a service in this nature would 
amount to an atonement for one, why not for another, and 
another, until the whole were included ? That such 
might be the case, it is easy to see; and that such, in 
fact, was the case, it would be very natural to pre- 
sume. 

The leading circumstance which constitutes the con- 
nection between Christ and those for whom his sacrifice 
is available, is that he obeyed the law in their nature ; 
and in the same nature suffered its penalty, or that which 
was equivalent. All had reproached or dishonored 
God alike, by trampling upon the authority of his law ; 
Christ assumes their nature, and by his obedience and 
sufferings magnifies the law and makes it honorable, 
They with one voice had proclaimed that the law was 
not good, nor God worthy to be obeyed. Christ reverses 
this statement, and proclaims in the ears oft lie universe 
(ho purity of God's character, and \\w excellence and 
importance of liis law. Nay, he condemns sin, a indi- 
cates God's holiness, and shows his unalterable determi- 
nation to uphold the authority of his government ; since, 
in the vorv expedient he has adopted for dispensing 
mercy, he will not forgive sin, without an adequate sat* 

islaclion to the right of his injured majesty, considered 
as the moral head of the universe. All this Christ did 
in man's nalure, and with reference to the sins of men. 



315 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

and more than this he need not do, and could not do, by 
offering himself a sacrifice for sin. What is there, let 
me ask, in the nature and circumstances of this great 
sacrifice, which should limit its availableness to a part of 
the human race ? Did it not bear sufficiently upon the 
conduct of the whole ? Did it not condemn sin — all sin 
— the sin of one man as much as the sin of another ? 
Did it not vindicate the Divine holiness, and the purity 
and excellence of that law which man had broken ? Did 
it not evince God's determination to sustain the author- 
ity of that law, while it exhibited his boundless com- 
passion towards a world of rebels ? What more would 
we have in it, or what other or greater moral influence 
would we have it exert, had it been designed as a sacri- 
fice of expiation for the whole human family ? As for 
ourselves, we regard the whole scheme of atonement in 
the light of a remedial law ; that it was adopted to coun- 
teract the ruins of the fall — and that in its very nature 
it contained a provision coextensive with those ruins — 
though in its application, for wise and holy purposes, an 
important difference will be made. But here we shall 
be told, that if we have not left out of our statement, 
we have not sufficiently exhibited one all-controlling cir- 
cumstance, to wit : the actual substitution of Christ for, 
and in behalf of, those for whom he suffered ; that to 
constitute his sufferings an available sacrifice, it was ne- 
cessary not only that he should die in the nature, but in 
the room of sinners ; and that he might die in their na- 
ture without dying in their stead. 

Our reply is, that we consider the death of Christ as 
a vicarious sacrifice, and offered in behalf of all men ; 
because, from the very nature of the case, it could 
scarcely be otherwise, he dying in their nature, and in 
circumstances equally fitted to make him the substitute 
of all. He did and suffered what he must have done, 
had he been the substitute of all, and so far as we can 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3^7 

discern, nothing less or more ; what he did and suffered, 
bore the same relation to sin and holiness, to the law and 
government of God, as it would have done, had he 
offered himself for all ; nay, we consider it impossible 
that he should, by his obedience and death, have con- 
demned sin and magnified the law, and this in man's nature, 
without doing it with reference to every man's sin, and 
the dishonor which every man had cast upon the law. 
His sacrificial service was open and public, performed in 
the face of the universe, and gave out a testimony which 
was heard through all worlds, and a testimony which 
bore as strongly upon one man's sin as another' , and 
upon the righteousness of God, in his condemnation. 
Nay, whatever was the language of this solemn transac- 
tion concerning God or man, equally respected all men, 
and God in relation to all. We could not doubt, there- 
fore, that so far as Christ was the substitute of any man, 
he was the substitute of all men, were we to look only 
at the nature of his sacrifice, and the purposes it was 
immediately designed to answer in the moral adminis- 
tration of God. But the Bible has not left us to general 
principles here ; it has furnished us with facts and de- 
claratimis upon the subject which we think ought forever 
to put this matter to rest. 

Look a moment at the doctrine of sacrifice taught from 
the beginning, but with more explicitness under the dis- 
pensation of Moses. For certain transgressions, and some 
of them of a moral character, every sinner among the 
[sraelites was required to bring a victim, over whose 
head be was to confess Ins sin. This victim was after- 
wards to be slain, and offered by the priest as a sin- 
offering unto the Lord, for the purpose of making an 
atonement for the soul. The life of the victim was ac- 
cepted for the life of the sinner, the victim being always 
regarded as bi& substitute. Where the service was per- 
formed, agreeably to God's appointment, an atonement 



31g EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

was made, and sin forgiven, so far, at least, as to release 
the sinner from the penalties and disabilities incurred 
under the Jewish law. But the victims slain on these 
occasions were types of Christ, a nobler victim hereafter 
to come into the world. This, so far as I know, is uni- 
versally admitted. But what follows ? Why, most 
certainly, unless the Jewish law was deceptive, the type 
being the substitute of the sinner, the antitype must be 
his substitute also ; for it looked to him, and derived all 
its significancy and efficacy from him. A typical offering 
would be but a mere mockery of the Divine justice and 
holiness, considered in any other light than as a prefigu- 
ration of the glorious Antitype. Of necessity, therefore, 
they must be regarded as closely conjoined. Admit, then, 
that every man in the Jewish nation, good or bad, elect or 
non-elect, when he brought his sin or trespass-offering to 
the Lord, was taught, by the very nature of the institu- 
tion, that his offering or victim was his substitute, could he 
avoid the conclusion that a greater and infinitely more 
precious victim was his substitute also ? Could he 
understand the nature of this sacrificial service, without 
perceiving that the type pointed to the Antitype, and that, 
by the appointment of God, both stood in the same rela- 
tion to him, as a gracious medium through which pardon 
was to be obtained, and the Divine favor secured ? 

Now let me ask, whether it is reasonable to suppose 
that such a doctrine as this should be held forth in the 
Jewish sacrifices, if, in truth and in fact, Christ is the 
appointed substitute for the elect only ? I know it is 
sometimes said, that the Jewish people were a typical 
nation, and that they properly prefigured the true Church 
of God, or the whole body of the elect, and, therefore, 
that their sacrifices for themselves typified Christ's sacri- 
fice for his people. But this by no means avoids the dif- 
ficulty. The Jewish sacrifices had a language which 
was distinct and appropriate, and that language was, 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 3X9 

that every man's victim brought by God's appointment, 
was a vicarious offering, accepted in behalf of the guilty 
offerer ; that this offering was a type of Christ, and of 
his great sacrifice, to be made once in the end of the 
world ; and consequently that Christ, thus prefigured, 
stood in the same relation to the offerer as did the pre- 
figuring victim, to wit, as his substitute, and the only 
piacular sacrifice on which his faith ought ultimately to 
rest. This, we have no doubt, is the true state of the 
case. But to show how perfectly futile the attempt 
to escape from this argument is, by resorting to the no- 
tion that the Jewish nation typified the Church, let us 
look back to the patriarchal ages, where no such refuge 
will be found. 

It is the common belief of Christians, supported by the 
clear indications of Holy Writ, that sacrifices were in- 
stituted by God immediately after the fall ; that these 
sacrifices were expiatory, resembling, in all important 
particulars, the sin-offerings under the law. But if these 
early sacrifices were of God's appointment, it will not be 
doubted that they were obligatory upon the whole hu- 
man family during the patriarchal ages, nor that they 
were typical, bearing the same relation to the promised 
seed of the woman, and to his sacrifice, which the Mosaic 
sacrifices afterwards bore. What thm do we find in this 
ancient sacrificial service? Why that God required 
every man, as lie did Cain and Abel, to bring their vic- 
tims, at the appointed time, and sacrifice them at his 
altars. Were these victims, then, the substitutes of 
the offerers, life being accepted for life I There is no 
room to doubt. Did these \ictims typify the Saviour, 
and his sacrifice of expiation ! Most certainly they 
did, or thcv were an unmeaning and unprofitable ser- 
vice. But if typical of Christ, and the substitutes of 

the offerers, then Christ himself was exhibited as the 

substitute of the offerer*, unless you break ii]) the con- 



32Q EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

nection between type and antitype. To him these of- 
ferings pointed, and the worshipers were directed, 
through the medium of these emblems, to the great 
sacrifice which he was to accomplish when he should 
come to break the head of the serpent, and procure 
the means of deliverance to a ruined world. 

Here was instruction which God himself imparted, 
and it exhibits, with the light of a sunbeam, two import- 
ant facts, to wit: that the victims employed in animal 
sacrifice were the appointed substitutes of their respect- 
ive offerers, and that, being types of Christ, they show 
him to be the substitute of the offerers also. Now, as 
the rite of sacrifice was universal — instituted for the 
whole family of man — how can we escape the conclu- 
sion, that a foundation was laid for this universality by 
appointing the Mediator to appear in human nature, and 
to offer a sacrifice in behalf of the whole human family. 
Allow a substitution thus universal, and all appears 
plain ; say, with the Apostle, that Christ is a Mediator 
between God and men, and that he, by the grace of God, 
tasted death for every man ; give these expressions their 
full and unrestricted import, and there is no difficulty in 
allowing that the ancient victims were the real substi- 
tutes of those who offered them, and at the same time 
types of the Lord Jesus, who, in his sacrificial character, 
sustained an important relation to the entire family of 
man. But deny a substitution thus universal, and you 
are plunged into impenetrable darkness. 

We have dwelt the longer on this point, because it is 
vital to the controversy. If Christ were a substitute for 
all men, or died in the room of all, then it cannot be de- 
nied that his sacrifice bore such a relation to the sins of 
men, that a way was thereby opened for the restoration 
of the whole human race to the favor of God. And on 
the other hand, if no substitution of this universal char- 
acter existed, I do not see but that we must restrict the 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 321 

availableness of Christ's death to the elect only. But 
our brethren of the opposite school will probably rejoin: 
" If Christ died in the room of all, why are not all saved ? 
And again, if he died/or, or in reference to all, why the 
specialty sometimes indicated in regard to the object of 
his death : he is said to lay down his life for his sheep, 
for his friends, for the Church ?" 

The first of these inquiries we answer by saying, that 
if Christ did die for all, so as to make his death avail- 
able to their salvation, it will not follow as a conse- 
quence that all will actually be saved, and as to the in- 
dication of specialty in regard to the object of Christ's 
death, such as that he died for his sheep, his Church, his 
friends, these are all explained by a reference to the 
ultimate object of his death. Doubtless, he died with an 
intention of saving those who were given him in the 
covenant of redemption; they were the seed to serve 
him, promised as a reward for his agony and bloody 
sweat, and he looked to their salvation as the fruit of 
his sufferings, and as the joy set before him. But such 
an ultimate design of his death, which included the ap- 
plication which should be made of it by the sovereign 
and discriminating grace of God, hinders not the availa- 
bleness of liis sacrifice in relation to all, nor throws the 
slightest suspicion upon the doctrine which we have ad- 
vocated in this lecture. Because lie died with the de- 
clared design of saving his people, does it follow that 
he had no other design ? Because this was an nltiniate 
end BOUghl in his death, is it a just consequence that he 
could have had no other end, either immediate or ulti- 
mate ! Doubtless, whatever fellows as the proper result 

of his atoning sacrifice, he BOUght mere immediately or 

remotely as an end <>f his undertaking in this infinitely 

solemn and amazing traced \ . 

But we have not done with this article ; that tlu sarn- 
21 



322 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

fice of Christ stood in such a relation to the si?is of men, as 
to open a way for the salvation of all. 

We argue this from the parable of the marriage supper, 
where it is expressly said, all things are ready, and ready, 
too, for those who, it seems, in the event never came. 
* # * \\r e argue it from the indefinite tender 
of salvation made to all men where the Gospel comes. 
To us, no maxim appears more certain, than that a salva- 
tion offered, implies a salvation provided ; for God will not 
tantalize his creatures by tendering them with that which 
is not in his hand to bestow. We argue it from the de- 
clared purpose of God in sending his Son into the world, 
and which he has expressed in such a manner as to leave 
no reasonable doubt that provision is made for all. " For 
God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, 
but have everlasting life." 

By the world here, must be intended either the chosen 
vessels of mercy, sometimes called the elect world, or 
the world of mankind at large, without discrimination. 
Suppose we interpret it of the elect world. Then the 
sentiment will run thus : God so loved the elect world, 
that whosoever of the elect world shall believe in him. 

But such language is absurd upon the very face of it, 
and cannot be supposed to proceed from the lips of un- 
erring wisdom. Besides, what follows fixes the sense 
and demands a different interpretation. " For God sent 
not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but 
that the world through him might he saved." And again, 
" This is the condemnation, that light has come into the 
world, and men loved darkness rather than light." It is 
utterly contrary to the usus loquendi, to interpret the 
phrase, the world of God's chosen people. It signifies 
often, mankind at large ; sometimes the wicked part of 
mankind, as distinguished from God's people ; and not 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 323 

unfrequently the earth itself, with all that pertains to it. 
Nor is it doubted that it is sometimes taken for a part of 
mankind, instead of the whole, as when it is said, " the 
world is gone after him" But it is nowhere used, that we 
have discovered, for the elect, the Church, or God's re- 
deemed ones, in distinction from others. Interpret this 
passage, then, according to its most obvious signification, 
and what do we find but a declaration of God's love to 
the human race collectively, in the gift of his Son, which 
gift involved in it the means of their salvation. He sent 
his Son that they might he saved, not that they should 
infallibly be saved. His love was expressed in providing 
the means, and their destiny he has made to turn upon 
the use which they shall make of this inestimable pro- 
vision of his mercy. And hence Christ himself says in 
the words immediately following: "He that believeth 
not is condemned already ; because he hath not believed in 
the name of the only begotten Son of God." Not because 
a way of salvation was not provided through means of 
this Son, (for that he had asserted in a verse or two pre- 
ceding) but because he had not believed in the name of 
the only begotten Son, but despised and rejected him. 

Here lie assigns the true and only cause of condemna- 
tion to sinners under the light of the Gospel, namely, 
their unbelief. But how could unbelief be the cause, at 
least the principal cause, if no sacrifice has been offered 
for them, and no means of salvation provided ? There 
would then be another reason for their condemnation, a 
reason far deeper and more controlling, to wit, no atone- 
mi at, nor the means of one. 

We call not your alien! ion to the universal terms so 
often employed upon this subject, as thai Christ is the 
Saviour of all men, that though he tasted death far every 
man, and gave himself a ransom for all, frc, not because 
we suppose these terms ought not to be understood in 
the widest sense of universality, but because this ground 



324 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

has been trodden over by the parties in this controversy. 
We ask you to consider some passages which we think 
far more decisive. Look at Hebrews x. 26, 27 : " For 
if we sin willfully, after that we have received the know- 
ledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for 
sins ; but a certain fearful looking for of judgment, and 
fiery indignation which shall devour the adversaries." 
It is agreed, on all hands, that the Apostle here describes 
such as openly and deliberately apostatize from the truth, 
and set themselves vigorously to oppose Christianity ; 
men who are given up of God, and irrevocably sealed 
over to destruction, as a just judgment for their wicked- 
ness. Now, with respect to these men he saith, there 
remaineth no more sacrifice for sins. The original is 
peculiarly strong and determinate. oJx s« *epi &fi,apWwv o«ro- 
XsiVsrai dutfia — a sacrifice for sin no more, or no longer 
remains. What does this imply, but that antecedent to 
this apostacy, there was a sacrifice which might have 
availed to take away their sins. But now there is none. 
They are left without hope, because cut off, by the just 
judgment of God, from any connection with the only 
sacrifice which can take away sin. They have trampled 
under foot the blood of the covenant ; and now, instead 
of pleading for mercy, it pleads for vengeance. But 
what propriety in this statement, if the blood of Christ 
was never an available sacrifice for them, and they never 
stood in any other relation to it than the apostate angels ? 
it having, in no sense, ever been shed for them. Surely, 
it must be strange language, to say there remaineth no 
more a sacrifice to those for whom there never was a 
sacrifice. If this passage stood alone, on the subject 
before us, I should consider it as settling the question 
forever, that the death of Christ bore such a relation to 
the sins of men, as to open a way for the restoration of the 
whole human family to the favor of God. For, if it bore 
such a relation to any one soul who is finally lost, with 
what reason could it be denied with respect to others ? 






EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 395 

Look, again, at 1 Cor. viii. 11 : " And through thy 
knowledge shall thy weak brother perish, for whom 
Christ died." But how shall he perish ? why, by being 
emboldened to eat those things which are offered unto 
idols, as the Apostle teaches us in the preceding verse, 
he shall be guilty of renouncing the living and true 
God, or which is equally fatal, confounding him with 
idols. The Apostle does not say he shall be injured, 
greatly injured, but he shall perish ; using the very same 
word which Christ does, when he says that God gave his 
only begotten Son, that men need not perish, but have 
everlasting life ; and the same word which Jude uses, 
when he speaks of those who perishedm the gainsaying of 
Core. It is perfectly idle to attempt to explain away the 
solemn and awful import of this word ; and yet if it be al- 
lowed its proper signification — if to perish is to lose one's 
soul — then men may be lost for whom Christ died ; which 
concludes unanswerably in favor of our doctrine, that 
Christ died for all, or that his sacrifice bore a solemn and 
important relation to all. 

We draw the same conclusion from 2 Peter ii. 1, 
wiiere the Apostle speaks of some who privily bring in 
damnable heresies, denying the Lord that bought them, and 
bring upon themselves swift destruction. You have al- 
ready heard the opinion of Calvin upon this text. And 
though our brethren of another school have often nib- 
bled at it, and applied to it the various arts of criticism, 
still it stands as linn ;is the pillar of Hercules against 

the sentiment that Christ died for his people only. 

If wicked men deny the Lord that bought them, 
doubtless they were bought, and bought by the price of 

that blood which alone is an adequate ransom for the 
son I. 

But wr are told that the Lord that bought them was 

not Jcsns Christ, ami of course, that, they were not 

bought with his blood. Who, then, was this Lord, ami 



326 EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 

how did he buy these wicked men ? Why, the Lord is 
God the Father, the Sovereign Ruler of the world, and 
he bought these men as Jehovah bought the Israelites, 
when he delivered them from the bondage of Egypt. 
But when was this interpretation first introduced ? Can 
it be found in any of the ancient scholiasts or glossaries ? 
Its modern date shows its origin ; that it has been re- 
sorted to, not from its obvious agreement with the 
words, but from the necessity of the case. It has been 
seen that the old interpretation would be fatal to a cer- 
tain theory ; the words of the Apostle, therefore, must 
speak something else than what the Church from the 
beginning has supposed them to speak. 

But let us hear the defence of this novel interpretation. 
The word in the original, translated Lord, is fcfofcqc, and 
not Ku£iog, the more common appellation of Jesus Christ. 
This word, it is said, signifies Supreme Ruler, and is 
thus applied to God in several places in the New Testa- 
ment. True ; but is it not also applied to Christ, and 
even to men who sustain the relation of master to others 
as their servants ? Whom does the Apostle mean by 
&-ov6<r7]£ in 2 Tim. ii. 21, where he says, " If a man purge 
himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honor, 
sanctified and meet for the master's use V Whom does 
Jude mean by Ss^orns in a passage strikingly parallel with 
that under consideration, where he speaks of " cer- 
tain men crept in unawares, who were of old ordained 
to this condemnation, ungodly men, turning the grace 
of God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God, 
even our Lord Jesus Christ" as it should be rendered. 
The best lexicographers tell us that this word has the 
force of dominus among the Latins, and may be applied 
to God as the Supreme Ruler, to Jesus Christ as the 
great Head of his Church, or to any head or master of a 
family. Nothing is therefore more futile than the at- 
tempt to escape the obvious construction of this passage 



EXTENT OF THE ATONEMENT. 327 

by a criticism upon the word Sefaorrig, which in this very- 
place, Schleusner tells us, is applied to Jesus Christ. 
But if God, the Supreme Ruler of the world, is here 
designated by Sefaorris, I should like to know a little more 
definitely how he has bought these wicked men, who 
privily bring in damnable heresies ? Will you say he 
delivered them from the bondage of corruption ? This 
neither the text nor the context declares. But if it 
were so, what was the price which he paid for their 
deliverance ? When he bought the Israelites, he paid 
a price for them, and a heavy price it was; he gave 
Egypt for them — Ethiopia and Sheba for a ransom. 
Was there anything to correspond with this, when he 
bought the false prophets and false teachers spoken of 
in this text ? According to our judgment, there was 
never a harder shift to blunt the edge of plain and 
pointed Scripture testimony. But we need not wonder, 
because as long as this text stands in the Bible, unper- 
verted, it is entirely fatal to that scheme which contends 
that Jesus Christ was a sacrifice for the elect only. 

Let me draw your attention to a single remark more. 
This important passage has always been considered as 
parallel with that in Jude, already mentioned. There 
is a striking resemblance in all the important points of 
character attributed to these wicked men by the two 
sacred writers, and an equally striking analogy in their 
doom. But what did they do, besides turning the grace 
of God into lasciviousness, and leading a life of brutal 
sensuality? What did they do which in a peculiar 
manner irrevocably sealed (hem t<> perdition 1 Why, 
they denied the taring, and by taring Jude manifestly 
intends the Lord Jesus Christ. 



LECTURE XIY 



ELECTION 



" And as many as were ordained to eternal life, believed." — Acts xiii. 48. 

Before entering on the discussion of the doctrine supposed to be 
contained in these words ; let me advert a moment to the original. 
Doubts have been entertained by some whether our translators 
have properly rendered the first clause, u as many as were ordained 
to eternal life." They think the word translated ordained, ought 
to have been rendered disposed, set in order or prepared ; and one 
writer renders the clause thus : a As many as were earnestly deter- 
mined upon eternal life ;" leaving it uncertain whether this deter- 
mination was God's or the creature's, though most probably the 
creature's. He has the good sense, however, to acknowledge that 
this determination, if it appertain to the creature was a preparation 
of heart flowing from the discriminating goodness of God, who is 
the author of all good desires in us. The phrase in the original, 
is u otfoi ytfav rerayixsvoi zlg^uyvS' and the disputed word is rsrwyfiivot, 
a participle in the passive voice from the verb rarftfoj or tocttw. Tatf- 
tfw, according to Schleusner, has several significations closely allied 
to each other. Properly it signifies : 

First. Statuo, ordino, colloco, and certo, ordino, colloco et dis- 
pono, i. e., to appoint, ordain, set or place, and to set or place in a 
certain order. 

Secondly, and metaphorically, it signifies prcescribo, pracipio, 
mando, jubeo, i. e., to direct, command, order, require, fyc. ; and 

Thirdly, it has the signification of destino, and he quotes our 



ELECTION. 329 

text as an instance, rendering the passage thus, " As many as 
were destined by God to the eternal felicity of Christians, believed." 
Moras, who was no great friend to Calvinistic doctrines, is con- 
strained to acknowledge that this is the apppropriate meaning of 
rsra/fjivoi in this place. But without depending on the opinion of 
others, Calvinists or Arminians, let us look at the use of this word in 
the New Testament, and especially by Paul and the writer of the Acts. 
In the fifteenth chapter of the Acts at the second verse, it is said, 
* And they determined that Paul and Barnabas should go up to 
Jerusalem, IVagav, signifying their determination, purpose, desig- 
nation or will. Again, chapter xxii, 10, " And it shall be told 
thee of all things which are appointed for thee to do" — riraxrai — 
not prepared or set in order, but which are commanded, prescribed, 
or fixed by Divine appointment. Thus also, Acts xxviii, 23, " and 
when they had appointed him a day," or having appointed him a 
day, rogapevoi Ss a '^ V s 'fa v - I n the same sense the word is used by the 
Evangelist, Matthew xxviii. 16, u Into a mountain where Jesus had 
appointed them," eragaro. In Luke, also, vii. 8, " For I also am a 
man set under authority," i.e., commissioned or appointed, Taccrojasvo^. 
Again, Romans xiii. 1, " The powers that be are ordained of God," 
faro Tov&sovTS<rayihivai6kiv. And finally, 1 Corinthians xvi. 15, "Addicted 
themselves to the ministry of the saints" — slg Siaxoviav <roTs ayioig sVagav 
kavroCg — i. e., devoted or consecrated themselves to this service. 
Whether this word is used in other senses in the New Testament, 
or whether it is used at all except in these cases I have not had 
time to ascertain. But it is easy to see from these examples that 
our translators had the best authority for the version which they 
have given, and that vain is the attempt to show that they were 
influenced by predestinarian prejudices. A greater difficulty arises 
from the oVoi, or quot, quot, as many — as though no others in that 
great assembly were ordained to eternal life, and all thai were so 
believed on that occasion, which some may think in itself not very 
probable. Such, however, is- the record, and who has a right to 
falsify it 1 or perhaps the meaning may be, that such and such 
only as were ordained to eternal life believed. 



And did n<> more believe? Not when Pftul preached, 
a man never surpassed in the force of his reasoning and 
in the power of his eloquence ? Could he persuade none 

to believe that Jesus was the Christ except those w ho 



330 ELECTION. 

were ordained to eternal life ? None. He made a pow- 
erful appeal to the Old Testament; he showed from 
ancient predictions, acknowledged by his hearers to be 
the Word of God, that Jesus was the Messiah whom God 
had promised to raise up unto Israel — that everything 
which related to him, his birth, his life, his doctrines, 
his miracles, his death, his resurrection accorded with 
the voice of the holy prophets. He reasoned, he ex- 
postulated, he entreated, but they only who were or- 
dained to eternal life believed. Even some who seemed 
on the point of giving up their opposition and embracing 
the Gospel, finally rejected it. Mournful fact; still it 
was a fact ; for " as many as were ordained to eternal 
life believed, and the rest were blinded." What would 
a plain, unsophisticated mind make of this ? Could he 
avoid perceiving that some of Paul's hearers were or- 
dained to eternal life, and that others were not — that as 
many as were thus ordained believed unto salvation — 
and that the rest did not believe ; but to them the Gos- 
pel was preached in vain. Surely, here is no darkness, 
no metaphysical subtlety, no labored reasoning. A plain 
fact is set before us level to every capacity ; but a fact 
which draws after it the most important consequences. 
For if some of Paul's hearers at Antioch were ordained 
to eternal life, and as many as were thus ordained be- 
lieved, shall we not be compelled to admit a similar or- 
dination in the case of all who believe unto life eternal ? 
especially when the Scriptures constantly refer us to 
such an ordination, or purpose of God as the cause of 
man's salvation ? 

The doctrine of our Church, and as we believe the 
doctrine of the Bible is, that God hath preordained some 
to everlasting life, while he has for some holy and wise 
design left the rest of mankind to perish in their sins. 
In doing this he acts neither an unjust nor arbitrary 
part, but is moved by a regard to his own glory and the 



ELECTION. 331 

highest good of his moral kingdom. Certain it is, if he 
be infinitely wise and good, he cannot trespass upon the 
rights of his creatures by treating them in a way which 
would infringe upon their claims ; and it is equally cer- 
tain, however unfathomable his counsels may be to us, 
that the course which he pursues in the administration 
of his government, can be no other than that which is 
ultimately for the best, taking into view the whole sys- 
tem of beings and events. The wheels of his govern- 
ment may, to us, appear high and dreadful — and from 
their numberless movements it may strike us as if they 
were both complicated and embarrassed — but it becomes 
us to remember that these wheels are full of eyes, and 
go straight forward in the execution of a purpose as 
wise as it is powerful and irresistible. 

I am aware that the doctrine we have laid down as a 
subject of discussion at this time, viz. : that God hath 
preordained some to eternal life, and not others, is a doc- 
trine exceedingly unwelcome to the natural heart of 
man ; while it not unfrequently perplexes individuals 
who, we charitably hope, are themselves the heirs of sal- 
vation. It is not too much to say that there is naturally 
a strong prejudice in the human mind against this doc- 
trine. But what is to be done ? Must the minister of 
Christ yield to this feeling, and conceal from his people, 
or very partially exhibit to them, a doctrine which he 
regards as standing prominent on the page of inspira- 
tion ? This would plainly be to impeach the Divine wis- 
dom, for inculcating a doctrine which had better been 
concealed, or which, to say the least, should not often be 
presented. There can be, I think, but one opinion 
among sober-minded men on this subject. If the doc- 
trine be a doc! rine of the Bible, lot it he expounded and 
enforced, as a part of that system which God has gra- 
ciously communicated lor our instruction in righteous- 
ness. Let it he done wisely^ indeed, but let it he done 



332 



ELECTION. 



faithfully ; keeping back no part of it, nor disguising it 
under a specious form of words, lest its naked simplicity 
should awaken the hostility of gainsay ers. 

Our inquiry now is as to the truth of the doctrine. 
Has God ordained some to eternal life, while, in the 
exercise of his sovereign pleasure, he has passed by 
others ? What is the voice of Scripture ? 

In the eighth chapter of Romans we have these re- 
markable words : " And we know that all things work 
together for good, to them that love God ; to them who 
are the called according to his purpose. For whom he 
did foreknow (or before acknowledge), he also did predes- 
tinate to be conformed to the image of his son : more- 
over whom he did predestinate them he also called, and 
whom he called them he also justified, and whom he 
justified them he also glorified." Here is an unbroken 
chain, and if dispassionately viewed, must, we think, 
furnish an unanswerable proof of our doctrine. Who 
are they that are the called, according to God's purpose ? 
Certainly not all who receive the external call of the 
Gospel ; because it is said of them that they love God, 
and that all things work together for their good ; nei- 
ther of which is true of the great mass of Gospel hear- 
ers. They are, then, those that are called and saved 
with a holy calling, not according to their works, but 
according to God's own purpose and grace, which was 
given them in Christ Jesus before the world began. 
Hence it is declared, in the second place, that they are 
those whom God foreknew, or, as the original word signi- 
fies, fore-acknowledge d. To know a person, according to 
the style of Scripture, is often the same as to own or 
acknowledge him — or which is the same thing, to regard 
him with special favor. Thus, God said of the nation of 
Israel : " You only have I known of all the families of 
the earth." Thus, also, it is said of all God's people : 
" The Lord knowcth them that are his." And in accord- 



ELECTION. 333 

ance with this, Christ will say to some in the great and 
last day : " I know you not/' and " I never knew you," 
that is, I never acknowledged you. So to foreknow is to 
regard beforehand, with a purpose of favor. 

It is the same thing in the present case, as for God to 
set his love upon those whom he intends eventually to 
save. How can it be otherwise ? For he could not 
know any good in them, unconnected with his intention 
to impart that good. We see not how this can be de- 
nied, unless we deny that he works all our good in us 
and for us. Allow then, that God had a purpose of 
mercy concerning those whom he foreknew, and that this 
purpose was the purpose of salvation ; what next ? Why, 
that "he predestinates them to be conformed to the image 
of his Son" They could not go to heaven without this, 
nor perform a single condition on which heaven is pro- 
mised. Till Christ's image is begun there is no holiness, 
and without holiness no man shall see the Lord. What 
follows ? Why, those whom God predestinates to be 
holy, he makes holy. For whom he did predestinate, 
them he also called — called, not with the outward call of 
the Gospel, simply, but with the inward and effectual 
call of his Spirit ; agreeably to that passage : " Ye see 
your calling brethren, how that not many wise men after 
the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called; 
but God hath chosen the poor of this world, rich in 
faith and heirs of the kingdom." Now those whom God 
thus calls he justifies, by absolving them from the sen- 
tence of condemnation, and declaring them entitled to 

life And this once done, is done forever. " For whom 
he justified, them ho also glorified." The past time is 
used to denote the certain!) of (lie event; for so irre- 

rocable and effective is God's purpose, that lie calls 
things that, are not as though they were. What shall 

we say then I [f God he for us, who shall he against 

us? If he has foreknown us as persons whom he designed 



334 



ELECTION. 



forever to bless, if, in the fulfillment of this design, he 
predestinated us to be conformed to the image of his 
Son : if he has called and justified us according to his 
predetermined counsel, will he not glorify us ? This was 
evidently the Apostle's creed ; and therefore he asks, 
" Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect ? 
It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth ? It 
is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who 
is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh inter- 
cession for us." " Who shall separate us from the love 
of Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, 
or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? Nay, in all 
these things we are more than conquerors through him 
that loved us, and gave himself for us. For I am per- 
suaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor princi- 
palities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, 
nor heighth, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be 
able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ 
Jesus our Lord ;" that love which was from eternity, 
and which looked to eternity — that love which has been 
so effective in our own calling, our justification, and in 
the promise of glorification. Now strike out a link in 
this golden chain, and you would indeed destroy the 
doctrine we have set up, that God has, from the begin- 
ning, ordained some to eternal life ; you would separate 
the purpose of God from his works, and make the calling, 
justification and glorification of believers, to depend on 
something besides the discriminating love and efficient 
counsel of Jehovah. But who shall dare to do this? 
who shall venture to contradict the Apostle in a matter 
which he lays down with so much precision and emphasis ? 
Besides, these are not casual expressions of this sacred 
penman. He speaks of it elsewhere in a manner the 
most explicit and decided. Thus, in his Epistle to the 
Ephesians: "Blessed be the God and Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual 



ELECTION. 335 

blessings in heavenly places in Christ, according as he 
hath chosen us in him from the foundation of the world, 
that we should be holy and without blame before him 
in love, having predestinated us to the adoption of chil- 
dren, by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good 
pleasure of his will, to the praise of the glory of his 
grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved; 
in whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being 
predestinated according to the purpose of him who 
worketh all things after the counsel of his own will." 
What could be either more definite or conclusive ? Was 
not Paul a predestinarian ? Did he not believe in the 
counsel and decrees of God ? and that these decrees 
reached to the moral actions and eternal destinies of 
men ? Believers are here said to be chosen in Christ 
before the foundation of the world — to be chosen to 
holiness as well as to salvation — to be predestinated to the 
adoption of children by Jesus Christ, in whom also they 
had obtained an inheritance in heaven; and all this ac- 
cording to the purpose of him who worketh all things 
after the counsel of his own will. 

One would think there was no need of being in the 
dark on this subject, if we were only willing to yield to 
the plain and unequivocal testimony of God. For if he 
work all things after the counsel of his own will, then 
the salvation of believers, who arc declared to be his 
workmanship, must, be the result of his eternal purpose 
mid design. Does God, then, choose or elect those who 
are to be the subjects of his eternal favor? Does he 
call them out from the rest of the world, and bestow on 
them of his own free and sovereign mercy, the blessings 

of salvation I This is what the Bible asserts, and this, 

indeed, is w hut lays the foundation of the very word 

elect, so often used in relation to them. Peter addresses 
Christians in his time, as u elect according to the fore- 
knowledge of God the Father, through sanctification 



336 



ELECTION. 



unto obedience." And Paul says, " that he endured all 
things for the elect's sake, that they might obtain salva- 
tion with eternal glory." He demands in one place, 
" Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect ?" 
and in another, he beseeches Christians as the elect of 
God, holy and beloved, to put on bowels of mercies. He 
tells the Thessalonians, " that he knew their election of 
God, because the Gospel had come unto them, not in 
word only, but also in power and in the Holy Ghost, and in 
much assurance." Nor may we suppose that this mode 
of expression was peculiar to the Apostles. It was 
familiar to our Lord himself, from whose lips no doubt 
they had learned it. 

He speaks of the elect as those for whose sake the days 
of tribulation should be shortened — as those whose 
prayers God would certainly hear; whom false Christs 
and false Apostles would not be able to deceive, but whom 
his angels would surely gather from the four winds of 
heaven, and place by his side in the great and last day. 

The elect are a well-defined class in the Scriptures. 
They are that portion of Adam's race which were given 
to Christ in the covenant of redemption, as the fruit of 
his toil and bloody sweat. They are the seed which 
was to serve him, the travail of his soul, which he should 
see and be satisfied. They are his Church or mystical 
body, for which he is said to " give himself, that he 
might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of the 
water by the Word, and finally present it to himself, a 
glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such 
thing." They are his sheep, for whom, above all others, 
and with a special design for their salvation, he laid 
down his life. He speaketh of them, when he says, 
" All that the Father giveth to me shall come to me ; 
and him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out ; 
and this is the Father's will, which hath sent me, that 
of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing, but 



ELECTION, 



337 



raise it up again at the last day." And again : " Other 
sheep I have which are not of this fold ; them also I 
must bring ; and theij shall hear my voice, and there shall 
be one fold and one shepherd." 

But why are these persons called elect ? This is often 
made a question. Our doctrine is, that they are called 
elect, because they are chosen of God, in Christ, before 
the foundation of the world; and chosen, not because 
they were holy, but that they might be holy and without 
blame before him in love. Our doctrine is, that they 
are styled elect, not because they have first chosen Christ, 
but because Christ has first chosen them, and ordained 
them, that they should go and bring forth fruit, and that 
their fruit should remain. 

That this is the proper and legitimate force of the 
word, when applied to the subject before us, is suffi- 
ciently manifest, from a bare inspection of the passages 
where it occurs. But mark, especially, the passage 
which follows : " We are bound to give thanks to God 
alway for you, beloved of the Lord ; because God hath, 
from the beginning, chosen you to salvation, through 
sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth." Ob- 
serve the expression, " God hath, from the beginning, chosen 
you to salvation." This choice is not an after business 
with God, as they would represent it who make him 
choose men to salvation, because they believe, or after 
they believe. He chooses from the beginning, or from 
the foundation of tin 4 world, as (he word properly im- 
ports, those whom lie finally brings to life ; lie chooses 

them through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of 
the truth. Salvation is the end, sanctification the means. 
But it may be said, that he chooses (hem, because he 

foresees that they mil truly brfierr ; their foreseen faith 

being the cause of their choice or discrimination. This 

cannot be, because it would make their election turn 
upon their own works, and not upon the mere mercy of 

22 



338 ELECTION. 

God, contrary to the express declaration of Paul, in 
Romans xi. There he tells us that God had among his 
brethren, the Jews of that generation, a remnant devoted 
to his service, as really and truly as in the time of the 
prophet Elias, though in both cases the external appear- 
ances of religion were discouraging. " God hath not cast 
away his people whom he foreknew or foreacknowledged. 
Wot ye not what the Scripture saith of Elias, how he mak- 
eth intercession to God against Israel, saying, ' Lord, they 
have killed thy prophets, and digged down thine altars ; 
and I am left alone, and they seek my life.' But what 
saith the answer of God unto him ? f I have reserved 
unto myself seven thousand men who have not bowed 
the knee to Baal/ Even so, then, at this present time 
also, there is a remnant according to the election of grace. 
And if by grace, then is it no more of works ; otherwise, 
grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then is it no 
more grace ; otherwise, work no more is work. What 
then ? Israel hath not obtained that which he seeketh 
for" — that is acceptance with God ; " but the election hath 
obtained it" — to wit, that part of Israel called the election 
or body of the elect — " and the rest were blinded." 
This reasoning is too obvious to require comment. Here 
is election stated in the clearest manner ; but not an elec- 
tion founded upon works, either as already existing, or 
as foreseen to exist. It is an election founded upon the 
mere grace of God alone, an election which finds the sub- 
ject of it in his sins, guilty and helpless, and which comes 
to him, not because he has repented and believed, and 
found acceptance with God, but to give him repentance 
and faith, that he may be accepted. This view of the 
subject places God on the throne, and makes the Scrip- 
tures consistent with themselves. This shows us that it 
is neither of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, 
but of God that showeth mercy. This leaves the sinner 
justly and absolutely in the hands of God, to do with him 



ELECTION. 



339 



as he pleases, and corresponds with that declaration of 
God himself, " I will have mercy upon whom I will have 
mercy, and I will have compassion upon whom I will 
have compassion." This accords with the sentiment 
that our salvation is all of grace, as thus expressed by 
the Apostle : " By grace are ye saved through faith, and 
that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God." And 
again : " Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy 
calling, not according to our works," — according to what 
then ? — " according to his own purpose and grace, which 
was given us, in Christ, before the world began." It 
would carry us too far, to call up all the passages which 
bear upon this point, or to discuss the cavils and objec- 
tions which have been raised against them. 

I would add, however, that the truth of the propo- 
sition before us, that God hath ordained some to eternal 
life while he has left others to perish, is perfectly mani- 
fest from the difference we see made in individuals by 
the dispensation of his grace, compared with the doctrine 
of depravity and the efficacious influence of the Divine 
Spirit in the conversion and salvation of men. Some, we 
perceive, live and die in their sins, while others are 
brought to repentance, so far as we can judge, and made 
partakers of tin* salvation <>f the Gospel. Whence this 
difference? All are, by nature, totally depraved, and if 
left to themselves, we are assured, would neither repent 
nor believe. Why then do any repent ? fc it no! owing 
to His gracious act, who quickeneth those that are dead 
in trespasses and sins? If he (lid not take away the 

stony heart out of the flesh and give a heart of flesh, 
would it, ever be done? If he did not create men in 
Christ JeSUS Unto good works, WOUld they ever perform 
them? If he did not shed abroad his love in their hearts 
Wtmld that love over he felt I Bui if God must interpose 
for these purposes must he not do it of design? and if 
from design, when did that design begin ? or did it never 



340 



ELECTION. 



begin, having existed in liis own bosom from eternity ? 
Surely, with God there can be no new designs. Conse- 
quently those whom he now designs to save he eternally 
designed to save, which is nothing else than his decree 
or purpose to save them. 

The same truth follows inevitably from the fact 
that God has a fixed plan of operation. Did he make 
the world without knowing what was to become of the 
world which he made ; or without intending anything in 
relation to it ? Did he not foresee what would be the 
moral conduct of every individual, and what his final and 
eternal destiny ? especially did he not know that many 
of the lost children of Adam would be redeemed from 
eternal death through the mediation of his Son? and 
also who these persons would be ? Can we suppose such 
a foresight without involving a purpose, seeing their sal- 
vation is to be effected by his own agency ? How stands 
this matter ? He gave his own Son to die ; not simply 
to make their salvation possible but certain; for he pro- 
mised him a seed as a reward of his sufferings. Their 
salvation, therefore, was infallibly connected with his 
death ; nay more, it was distinctly aimed at as an ulti- 
mate end of his death. Christ had both his work and 
his reward fully before him. He knew that his death 
would be followed by the salvation of an innumerable 
company of mankind; nor could he be ignorant of the 
individuals, their names and circumstances, if we sup- 
pose him a Divine Person, unless, at the same time, we 
suppose that the system of Divine government is a mere 
system of expedients, and that the all-wise God neither 
knows what ought to be done, nor what he designs to 
do, until the time comes in which he is to act. But 
known unto God are all his works, from the foundation 
of the world, and doubtless his works of grace among the 
rest. He works all things after the counsel of his own 
will ; but that counsel is not taken in time, but exists 



ELECTION. 341 

from eternity. It is according to his eternal purpose, 
which he purposed in Christ Jesus our Lord, that the 
Church is redeemed, and that to principalities and powers 
in heavenly places, the manifold wisdom of God in and 
by the Church is displayed. The Apostle distinctly 
asserts this, and consequently the salvation of the Church 
was both a matter of certainty and a matter of design. 
I ask if this was not equally true of every individual in 
the Church as well as of the Church collectively? or does 
God's purpose reach the whole without reaching the 
parts? Can there be a doubt, then, whether God's plan 
embraces the salvation of the elect, considered as one of 
his own proper works ? If not, he must have had a pur- 
pose concerning them individually, or which amounts to 
the same thing, he must have ordained some to eternal 
life, while he did not thus ordain concerning others. 

But there are many objections to this doctrine, some 
of which we will briefly consider. 

(1.) If this doctrine be true, some will say mankind 
must be in a most deplorable condition, and an awful 
destiny hangs over many. They are not ordained to life 
and will never see life. Be it so. Is it not equally cer- 
tain that as many will perish and perish as awfully, if 
there were no decree or purpose of God found in the 
Bible? None but the impenitent and unbeliving will 
perish upon any system — not one more, not one less. 
But all these, without fail, are doomed to everlasting 
perdition upon the objectors' own principles. Now, 
whether these be few or many, can be determined only 
by an appeal to facts ; and these facts will be the same, 
and hold out the same fearful prospect to mankind, 
whether the doctrine objected to be true or false. One 
thing is certain, God will save all the righteous and 
punish all the wicked, whether they be few or many; 
nor will his decreeing to do this make the thing less fit 
in itself, or alter the number of the righteous and the 



342 ELECTION. 

wicked respectively. Believing in the doctrine of elec- 
tion, I may suppose as many will be saved as he who 
denies that doctrine, unless he also deny the final differ- 
ence which God will put between those that serve him 
and those that serve him not. This important fact is 
often overlooked by those who object to this doctrine. 
They seem to suppose that if it were not for election al- 
most the whole human family would be saved — certainly 
a much larger number than upon the admission of this 
doctrine. But no supposition was ever more groundless. 
Still we may be told that, according to our system, God 
decrees not only to save the righteous but to make them 
righteous, that they may be saved ! True ; but this 
decree does not make the rest wicked, nor render their 
state more perilous than it would otherwise be. God's 
eternal purpose to save some, is to be regarded in the 
light of a provision against universal ruin, and in no de- 
gree as laying a bar in the way of those who finally 
perish. It simply leaves them where they are, in a state 
guilty and without hope. God's delivering Lot out of 
Sodom, did not bring down the storm of fire and brim- 
stone out of heaven upon those who were left behind. 
They would have perished had not Lot made his escape. 
It is objected 

(2.) That a purpose to save some is incompatible 
with God's impartiality, and virtually makes him a re- 
specter of persons. This is certainly a mistake. For 
has not God a right to do what he will with his own ? 
His bestowing favor on some, and not on others, does not 
render him a respecter of persons, unless in justice he were 
bound to confer a like favor on all ; and then it would 
cease to be a favor, being what justice demands, not 
what grace freely bestows. If they who shall finally 
perish had any just claim on God for his forgiving mercy, 
or, in other words, if they did not deserve to perish, 
there would be some ground for complaint on his passing 



ELECTION. 340 

them by. But not as the case now is. They deserve to 
suffer, and if God treat them as they deserve he does 
them no wrong. And if he pardon some, and does not 
pardon others equally rebels against his throne, who 
shall arraign his proceedings ? Not the rebels them- 
selves who fall under the just stroke of the law. It is a 
prerogative of which God is jealous — and which he 
will certainly maintain — to have mercy on whom he 
will have mercy, and to punish the guilty when he will. 
Listen to the Apostle on this subject : " What if God, 
willing to show his wrath, and to make his power known, 
endured with much long-suffering the vessels of wrath 
fitted to destruction ? and that he might make known 
the riches of his glory on the vessels of mercy which he 
had afore prepared unto glory ?" Shall God's right to 
exercise his sovereignty in this case be denied ? Nay, 
shall the guilty themselves fly in the face of their judge? 
Beware, O man ! of replying against God. His throne 
will be guiltless, whether he lift thee to heaven or sink 
thee to hell. Is thine eye evil because he is good ? It 
will be time enough to complain, when he shall lay upon 
any of us what is not justly our due. Till then, we 
might as well complain that he did not make us angels, 
instead of men, or did not keep us from sinning after he 
made us, as to find fault that we are punished for our 
sins, though others should obtain mercy. 

(3.) But again it is objected, "Be it so that I am 
justly condemned for my sins. Still, if I am not ordained 
to eternal life, I shall never ho saved ; and what will it 
signify for me to attend to the affair of my salvation ? 
If lam to be saved I shall be saved, do what I will ; 

and if I am to be lost I shall bo lost, do what I can." 

This is false reasoning ; ami if it he Intended as an ob- 
jection against the doctrine advocated in this discourse, 
ii is enough to reply, that when God decrees the salva- 
tion of any man, he decrees the moans as well as the 



344 ELECTION. 

end, and the means are inseparable from the end. Those 
who are chosen to eternal life, are chosen through sanc- 
tification of the Spirit and the belief of the truth. Men 
cannot go to heaven without being holy, and they cannot 
be holy without obeying God's commands. He who 
presumptuously attempts to sever the means from the 
end, not only reasons falsely, but reasons and acts 
against the life of his own soul. But if the objection 
now urged be a practical one, one intended as an excuse 
for doing nothing, I must beg leave to say to the objector 
that he is not sincere nor in earnest in what he says. 
For he does not act upon this principle in his temporal 
concerns. If he believes the doctrine of election to be 
true, (and it is only upon the supposition that it is true 
that he can consider it as standing in his way,) he must 
believe that all other events are predetermined by God ; 
he must believe that health and sickness, prosperity and 
adversity, the length of his life and the time of his 
death, are equally predetermined. Why, then, does he 
not reason in the same manner in regard to these events ? 
Why does he not say in the hour of sickness, If God has 
determined my recovery, I shall recover, whether I 
apply to a physician, or make use of any remedies, or 
not ; and if he has determined my disease shall prove 
fatal, fatal it will be in spite of all means, and therefore 
I will use none. If God has determined I shall live ten 
years, I shall live ten years, whether I eat, or drink, or 
take any care of my life or not. You can find no man 
except a maniac who will reason in this manner. And 
why ? Because every one perceives the means and the 
end are inseparably connected in the affairs of this world. 
Are they not equally so in the things of religion ? Until 
men therefore will carry the objection through, applying 
it to things temporal as well as to things spiritual, we 
have a right to say that they are not sincere in urging 
this objection; that it is only a pretext for doing nothing; 



ELECTION. 345 

an idle excuse, which the conscience will condemn in 
the hour of death and in the final judgment. 

(4.) Again, it is objected that a positive decree to save 
some is inconsistent with the free agency of man, and 
makes him but a mere machine. How so ? It surely 
does not stand opposed to the freedom of those who shall 
be saved, since the most that it can do in relation to 
them is to make it certain that they shall be willing in 
the day of God's power ; and as to others, it does not 
immediately concern them — it simply leaves them where 
they are. It throws no barrier in the way of their sal- 
vation, and it removes none. If they perish, (and what 
else can we look for ?) they will perish because they 
willingly persevere in rejecting the overtures of the 
Gospel. I speak, of course, of those to whom the Gos- 
pel is made known. 

None of all the human race will be saved most cer- 
tainly, but those in whose behalf God shall mercifully 
interpose by his enlightening and sanctifying power. 
But if he interpose, doubtless he will do it of design, but 
neither the design itself, nor the execution of it, is in the 
least degree incompatible with the freedom of man. I 
admit that God's purpose makes it certain, that those 
whom he hath chosen to salvation, shall sooner or later 
comply with the conditions of salvation, but their com- 
pliance is a voluntary thing, of course \ when they com- 
ply they do that, and that only, which is pleasing to them 
to do. Here is no constraint, no infringement of their 
moral liberty, if to do as ;i man pleases is to be free, or 
if in the mere fact of being pleased his liberty is not con- 
strained. 

(5.) But if God lias determined to save some and 
not others, then some will he certainly saved, and the 
rest as certainly perish. Can we avoid, upon this prin- 
ciple, the appalling conclusion, that those who shall 



346 ELECTION. 

finally perish were made for the very purpose of being 
miserable ? They were made, it must be admitted, 
knowing that their end would be destruction. This 
will not be denied by any who allow the absolute fore- 
knowledge of God. Can it, then, be said that he made 
those who he foresaw would finally perish, with an ex- 
pectation that they would finally be saved ? No person 
will pretend this ; and as little can it be pretended that 
he purposed them for an end which he knew they would 
never reach. This would be in the highest degree ab- 
surd, as it would be supposing the all-wise Creator 
to aim at an object which he did not expect to ac- 
complish — a thing not to be charged to the account of 
any rational being. The truth is, God made all men 
naturally capable of endless felicity, and put into their 
hands the natural means of securing it. That is to say, 
he made them moral agents, and placed them under a 
law which they were sacredly bound to obey, and 
which, if they had obeyed without defection, their hap- 
piness would inevitably have ensued. But at the same 
time, he anticipated their revolt, and the final misery 
which, to many of them at least, would certainly follow. 
If you ask why he did this — why he created men — when 
he knew the consequences as to many would be so disas- 
trous ? The answer is, because so it seemed good in his 
sight, he saw that his own glory required it, and doubt- 
less the highest happiness of his immeasurable and eter- 
nal kingdom. The Lord hath made all things for him- 
self, even the wicked for the day of evil, but not for the 
day of evil as the ultimate end of their being ; this end 
is his own glory, and the good of his kingdom as con- 
nected with his glory. But whether this will satisfy 
the inquiring and complaining mind or not, one thing is 
certain; the difficulties attending the subject are no 
greater to those who maintained the doctrine of the Di- 






ELECTION. 347 

vine decrees, and the decree of election among the rest, 
than to those who admit the absolute prescience of God. 
(6.) After all it may be said, if the doctrine be true, 
is it not a discouraging doctrine ? And should it not 
rather be suppressed, or, at all events, sparingly incul- 
cated ; lest it prevent men from attending in earnest to 
the great subject of their salvation ? This is the opinion 
of some who believe the doctrine. But we ask, is this 
respectful to the Divine wisdom. If the doctrine be re- 
vealed, why should it not be declared ? For what pur- 
pose has God revealed it, if it is not to arrest our atten- 
tion, and become the subject of serious and deliberate 
regard ? It is written with more or less distinctness on 
almost every page of the Bible ; and the diligent reader of 
this Sacred Volume can scarcely turn away his eyes from 
it if he would. And as to its discouraging effect, we are 
greatly mistaken if it has this influence upon any but 
those who are profoundly ignorant of their own charac- 
ter. If men are once convinced of their desperate wick- 
edness, they will presently discover that there is no 
other hope for them, but in the sovereign interposition 
of God. They will see that if left to themselves, and to 
their own unassisted endeavors, they will inevitably 
continue in their rebellious and guilty course till they 
fall into the pit of destruction. Such persons are not 
discouraged when they hear God say, "I will have 
mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will be gra- 
cious to whom I will be gracious. " So far from it, it is 
from this and similar declarations thai they take courage 
rather, believing that, guilty and deplorable as their case 
is, it is not beyond the reach of the Divine power and 
mercy; thai He who has so often signalized his grace in 
subduing the stout-hearted and rebellious, and in pluck- 
ing the guilty from the very borders of the pit, can, if it 
please him, make them the monuments of his super*- 



348 



ELECTION. 



bounding mercy. This is their last and only hope. 
With respect to the self-righteous and careless, no doubt 
the doctrine advocated in the preceding discourse will 
often be found unwelcome ; nor would it be strange if 
they should abuse it as they do other doctrines of the 
Scriptures, to their greater guilt and condemnation. 



LECTURE XY. 



ON EFECTUAL CALLING. 



L\ my last Lecture, the doctrine of particular and per- 
sonal election, as understood by Calvinists, was considered, 
with some of the objections usually urged against this 
doctrine. I call your attention now to the doctrine of 
effectual calling. This was briefly alluded to, in the last 
Lecture, as a subject intimately associated with that of 
election. In short, they mutually imply each other. If 
God actually sets his love on a portion of the human 
family, intending to interpose for their salvation, doubt- 
less what he intends to do will be done ; and if he ever 
interposes effectually in behalf of any, to induce them to 
comply with the terms of salvation, there is no reason to 
question that he purposed to do so from everlasting. He 
would not purpose in the case, if he had not the power 
to accomplish what he purposed. Nor can fire suppose 
his power put fortli at BttJT time, for any end, without a 
Correspondent design which was neither new nor tran- 
sient, but coeternal with his being. 

In religion, as in science, there are a tew leading prin- 
ciples which are fundamental to all the rest. Mistake 
any one of these, and von will always be in the dark. 
No matter how inncli yon may read or reflect, how mi- 
nute or how wide yonr researches may be, if JOUI founda- 
tion be unsound, your superstructure will never be secure 



350 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

Do we desire, then, to become acquainted with Christian 
doctrine ? We must spare no pains thoroughly to under- 
stand its primary truths. We must examine and re-ex- 
amine, till we are reasonably assured that our first 
principles are grounded upon the plain and unequivocal 
testimony of God. And in doing this, it is not unimpor- 
tant that we should bring an humble and impartial, as 
well as an inquisitive spirit to the work, a spirit which 
is willing to abide by the declaration of God's Word, 
whether it be for us or against us, whether it fall in with 
our preconceived opinions or oppose them. 

For want of this, thousands of laborious inquirers have 
been led astray. Their object has been to learn, not so 
much what hath the Lord spoken, as whether his Word 
can be made to yield a sense which accords with a creed 
already adopted, or which they may wish to adopt. 
There is the more reason for making these suggestions, 
since whatever may be the true system of the Bible, 
nothing is more certain, than that it is a system directly 
repugnant to the native feelings of our hearts. 

The question I propose to consider is, whether there 
be any such thing, properly speaking, as an effectual call ; 
that is, whether the Bible authorizes the use of any 
such language, when speaking of the Divine agency in 
the matter of our conversion and salvation. That this 
has long been the opinion of the Church, we cannot 
doubt ; that this was the opinion of the Reformers, and 
many leading men since their day, is obvious, from their 
creeds and confessions which are still extant. Let me 
advert a moment to some of these symbols. They are 
entitled, for the most part, to be regarded as the form of 
sound words, if nothing more. They show, at least, 
what great and good men have thought upon this subject* 
in days that are gone by, days which were trying to 
them, and deeply interesting to the Church of God. 

In our shorter catechism, " effectual calling " is said 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 35 [ 

to be " the work of God's Spirit, whereby convincing us 
of our sin and misery, and enlightening our minds in the 
knowledge of Christ, and renewing our wills, he doth 
persuade and enable us to embrace Jesus Christ, as he 
is freely offered to us in the Gospel." In this definition, 
the whole work of conviction and conversion is com- 
prised, and its accomplishment ascribed to the Holy 
Spirit, as its true and proper cause ; not, however, over- 
looking the instrumentality of the Word, nor denying 
that an outward call is freely given to all, where the 
Gospel comes. There is no truth more certain, than 
that the Gospel is to be preached to all men, without 
distinction, and that all are invited and commanded by 
it, to come and partake of the blessing which it reveals. 
This is clearly taught in the parable of the marriage 
supper. At the same time, it is manifest that all do not 
come. Some indulge in frivolous excuses, and disobey 
the heavenly message, and perish under aggravated guilt. 
The same, it is believed, would be the case of all, if left 
to pursue their own chosen way. The human heart 
being totally depraved would uniformly and universally 
reject the offers of the Gospel, if the Divine Spirit did 
not accompany the Word by his own secret and powerful 
influence, and dispose the sinner humbly and thankfully 
to embrace the proffered mercy. This influence or work 
of the Spirit, our standards denominate a call, and an 
effectual call, because it never fails to reach its end. All 
who are the subjects of it are certain to obey, and 
obeying, to become partakers of the blessings which the 
Gospel freely tenders. The new which our fathers had 
of this subject, you will find more fully expressed in the 
Larger catechism, and in the confession of faith. "All 

those whom God hath predestinated unto life, and those 
only, he is pleased in his appointed and accepted time, 
effectually to call out of that state of sin and death, in 
which they are by nature, to grace and salvation by .Ie<us 



352 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

Christ ; enlightening their minds, spiritually and savingly 
to understand the things of God; taking away their heart 
of stone, and giving unto them a heart of flesh ; renew- 
ing their wills, and by his almighty power, determining 
them to that which is good, and effectually drawing them 
to Jesus Christ ; yet so as they come most freely, being 
made willing by his grace." This effectual calling, they 
add, " is of God's free and special grace alone ; not from 
anything at all foreseen in man, who is altogether passive 
therein, until being quickened and renewed by the 
Holy Spirit, he is thereby enabled to answer this call, 
and to embrace the grace offered and conveyed therein." 
Two things, you perceive, are here conjoined — God's 
eternal purpose, and an effectual call, as the result of 
that purpose. Nor is it possible it should be otherwise, 
since whatever God does he eternally designed to do. 
The same idea with respect to an effectual call, is found 
in all the creeds and formularies of the early Protestant 
Churches, and in none, perhaps, with more distinctness 
and precision, than in the articles of the Church of Eng- 
land. In their 17th article, predestination and effectual 
calling are united. " Predestination to life (not predesti- 
nation to external privileges) predestination to life is the 
everlasting purpose of God, whereby, before the founda- 
tions of the world were laid, he hath constantly (t. e. 
firmly) decreed by his counsel, secret to us, to deliver 
from curse and damnation those whom he hath chosen 
in Christ out of mankind, and to bring them by Christ to 
everlasting salvation as vessels made to honor. Where- 
fore they who be endued with so excellent a benefit of 
God," (that is, they who are thus predestinated to life,) 
"be called according to God's purpose by the Spirit 
working in due season; they, through grace, obey the 
calling ; they be justified freely ; they be made sons of 
God by adoption ; they be made like the image of his 
only begotten Son Jesus Christ ; they walk religiously 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 353 

in good works; and at length, by God's mercy, they 
attain to everlasting felicity." We know, indeed, that 
the great body of the English Church do not receive 
this article in its most obvious construction ; that " much 
learning " and ingenuity have been employed within 
the last century to give it a sense compatible with Ar- 
minian views ; but we are well satisfied that no learning: 
or talent will ever be able to overturn this noble monu- 
ment of ancient orthodoxy. It stands firm, and is des- 
tined, we trust, to be instrumental in bringing back the 
sons of that church to the creed of their forefathers, and 
to " the faith once delivered to the saints." Many have 
returned within the last forty years ; and this species of 
reform is still advancing. A thousand ministers of that 
communion, in Great Britain alone, besides many distin- 
guished laymen, are known to have embraced Calvinistic 
sentiments. 

But our faith, my brethren, must not " stand in the 
wisdom of men, but in the power of God." To his tri- 
bunal are we responsible, not to the tribunal of mortals. 
"To the law, then, and to the testimony." " What saith 
the Scripture " concerning an effectual call ? 

I consider that call as effectual which actually brings 
the soul into a state of salvation, by causing it to com- 
ply with the terms of the Gospel. Any call which 
leaves the subject of it short of this, cannot be effectual, 
proceed from what source it may, and accomplish what 
else it may. Let it come from the Word, or providence, 
or Spirit of God, or from all three combined, if it does 
not jssue in " repentance unto life/' and in "faith un- 
feigned," it is not effectual, But that there is a ('all or 
work <>f the Spirit which is effectual, and which never 
fails to bring the soul to a hearty compliance with the 
terms of the Gospel, we think abundantly evident from 

the Scriptures. Such a call had Zacchcus, the publican, 
when Christ said to him, k ' Come down, for to-dav 1 must 
23 



354 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

abide at thy house." He had climbed the sycamore 
tree to see Jesus, who he was, and from no higher 
motives, it would seem, than to gratify his curiosity. Be 
this as it may, he came down a very different man from 
what he was when he went up. He came down a sin- 
cere penitent and a true believer, ready to do justice to 
those whom he had injured, and to bestow one half of 
his goods to feed the poor. That the change was thus 
sudden and effectual is manifest from what Christ said 
in the presence of his friends immediately after: "This 
day is salvation come to this house, forasmuch as he also 
is a son of Abraham; for the Son of Man is come to seek 
and to save that which was lost." 

Such a call had Matthew, who was sitting at the re- 
ceipt of custom, and who, as well as Zaccheus, was a 
publican by profession, or a tax-gatherer — an employ- 
ment so odious among the Jews, that nothing but the 
love of money could induce any of their countrymen to 
pursue it. While at his office, receiving the taxes and 
custom imposed by the Roman law, Jesus said to him, 
" Follow me ;" and such a power went with his words, 
that he instantly arose and followed him, leaving his lucra- 
tive employment to become a disciple and companion of 
Jesus in the labors and sufferings of the Gospel. A call, 
equally discriminating and effectual, is mentioned by the 
Apostle in the eighth of Romans : " And we know that 
all things work together for good to them that love God, 
to them that are the called according to his purpose." 
But who are the called according to God's purpose ? 
Not all, surely, who receive the outward call of the Gos- 
pel ; not all, indeed, who are more or less moved upon 
by the Divine Spirit ; none, most certainly, but those who 
love God ; none but those to whom all things work to- 
gether for their good ; for here they that love God, and 
they that are the called, by way of eminence, are the 
very same persons. But what does their calling import ? 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 



355 



Plainly that inward and efficacious work of the Spirit, 
by which they are called out of a state of sin and death 
into a state of life and peace. It is something done 
according to God's purpose, and with reference to their 
salvation : and the next words tell us what that some- 
thing is : " For whom he did foreknow, or fore-acknow 
ledge, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the 
image of his Son, that he might be the first-born 
among many brethren. Moreover, whom he did pre- 
destinate them he also called ;" called by the power of 
his Spirit in their hearts, (or else their sanctiiication is 
wholly overlooked by the Apostle in this passage : " And 
whom he called them he also justified, and whom he jus- 
tified them he also glorified.") What other meaning 
can be put upon the word " called," in this pas- 
sage ? Will you say, contrary to the established use in 
other places, that those whom God predestinated to be 
conformed to the image of his Son, them he called sons, 
or gave them the name of sons ? I ask, then, how they 
came by the nature of sons, if that nature they have ? 
Foreknowing them did not give them this nature. Pre- 
destinating them to be conformed to the image of his 
Son did not give them this conformity. For a mere 
purpose to do a thing does not do it. Justifying them 
does not give them this nature, for tin's is the mere act 
of God, declaring them absolved from their sins, and 
entitled to life. Nor would glorifying them gjve them 
the nature of sons ; for this would be only advancing 
them to a state of honor — n sinic absurd and prepos- 
terous indeed, if thev remained under llie power oi 
their sinful ppssions and propensities. Nothing could 
giye them this nature but the regenerating and sanctify- 
ing influence of* the Spirit, who makes all (he heirs of 
glory meet for their eternal inheritance. 

Is it then to be believed, that while mentioning in 
their order those glorious acts of the Divine mercy, by 



356 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

which sinners are rescued from eternal misery and 
brought to everlasting life, the Apostle should leave out 
of view altogether so great, so distinguishing a work as 
that of the Holy Spirit in imparting spiritual life to the 
soul, and giving it all its qualifications for the enjoyment 
of heaven ? Let those believe this who can. We are 
not of that number. In the first chapter of the first 
Epistle to the Corinthians, we find a passage which 
clearly evinces the doctrine of an effectual call. Verses 
23, 24 : " But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews 
a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness ; but 
unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, 
Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God." But 
were not all called to whom Christ crucified was 
preached ? Most certainly. They were called by the 
external call of the Gospel, and this call was loud, sol- 
emn and sincere. But with all it was not effectual. 
Many neglected and despised it, and brought upon them- 
selves a heavier condemnation. But there was another 
call received by some — a call of a higher and more effi- 
cacious character; and therefore it is said that "unto 
them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, (distin- 
guishing them from others,) we preach Christ the power 
of God and the wisdom of God." Here, then, was a 
call peculiar, sovereign and effectual ; for to those who 
received it, and to those only, did Christ become " the 
power of God and the wisdom of God." 

And in connection with this, and correspondent with 
it, the Apostle adds in the verses which follow, " Ye see 
your calling, brethren " — not your calling as ministers, 
as some have supposed, but your calling as Christians — 
" Ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise 
men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, 
are called. But God hath chosen the foolish things of 
the world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen 
the weak things of the world to confound the mighty ; 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. g.yv 

and base things of the world, and things that are de- 
spised, hath God chosen ; yea, and things that are not 
to bring to nought things that are." And why I " That 
no flesh should glory in his presence," as though one 
had made himself better than another; but that all 
might acknowledge their indebtedness to his sovereign 
mercy. " For of him are ye in Christ Jesus," (if there 
at all,) " who of God is made unto us wisdom, and right- 
eousness, and sanctification, and redemption." The 
meaning is not that Christ was appointed to be all 
this to us, but that he is actually made this to us by the 
sovereign and almighty agency of God, in bringing us to 
believe on his name ; and therefore it is added that 
"according as it is written, he that glorieth, let him 
glory in the Lord." 

Now, if it were otherwise, if they had embraced 
Christ because they were better than others, or had 
made a better improvement of their gifts and advantages, 
(as is sometimes said,) they would have had some 
cause of glorying in themselves, seeing it was owing to 
their own peculiar efforts that such a wide and important 
difference now existed between them and others who 
still remained in unbelief. But as this was not the fact — 
p i heir embracing Christ, and becoming partakers of the 
blessings of redemption, was of God, wholly owing to 
his sovereign and efficacious rail — all ground of glorying 
in themselves was forever removed. 

You will find the same effectual call alluded to in the 
fjrst chapter of the Epistle iodic Ephesians, verse 17, 
where the Apostle tells his brethren thai lie made it the 
constant subject of his prayers to the Father of mercies, 
"That the eyes «»i their understanding being enlight- 
ened, they might know wlut is the hope of his (God's) 
tailing, and what the riches of the glory of his inherit- 
ance in the saints, ;uul what the exceeding greatness <>i 
his power towards them that believe, according to the 



358 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

working of his mighty power which he wrought in 
Christ Jesus when he raised him from the dead and set 
him at his own right hand in the heavenly places." 
Now, what is that calling which is here considered as 
the calling of God the Father, and his calling by way of 
eminence or distinction ? a calling full of hope, which 
none can understand but those whose eyes are enlight- 
ened ? a calling connected with the glory of God's in- 
heritance in the saints, and with the exceeding great- 
ness of his power towards them that believe ? Was it, 
think you, a mere external call ? a call to outward privi- 
leges common to all who hear the Gospel ? a call which 
men may be the subjects of and yet live and die in un- 
belief? Or was it a sovereign and invincible call? a 
call of the Spirit, which quickens those that are dead in 
trespasses and sins and makes them alive unto God ? 
a call of no less energy than that which awakened the 
sleeping Saviour from his tomb and placed him at God's 
right hand in the heavens, far above all principality and 
power ? I leave you most cheerfully to judge, after put- 
ting two questions which ought never to be overlooked 
when examining this subject. (1.) To what end does 
God work in men, either first or last, with the exceeding 
greatness of his power, and according to the working of 
his mighty power which he wrought in Christ Jesus 
when he raised him from the dead, if it be not to raise 
them from a death of sin unto a life of righteousness ? 
And, (2,) is it possible that after he has thus wrought in 
them, and notwithstanding this working, called also by 
the Apostle his effectual working, they should still re- 
main dead in trespasses and sins, and under the reign- 
ing power of unbelief? 

I cannot detain you with the consideration of all the 
places in which a call thus effectual is either expressed 
or intimated ; let me, however, just refer you to two or 
three of this character. Thus Paul, in his second Epistle 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 359 

to Timothy : " Be not thou therefore ashamed of the 
testimony of the Lord, nor of me his prisoner; but 
be thou a partaker of the afflictions of the Gospel ac- 
cording to the power of God, who hath saved us and 
called us with an holy calling; not according to our 
works, but according to his own purpose and grace 
which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world 
began." Here is a calling evidently peculiar to believers 
and connected with salvation ; a calling according to God's 
purpose and grace, given in Christ before the world 
began. Thus, too, the same Apostle, in his second 
Epistle to the Thessalonians : " But we are bound to give 
thanks always to God for you, brethren, beloved of the 
Lord, because God hath from the beginning chosen you 
to salvation through sanctification of the Spirit and be- 
lief of the truth, whereunto " (or to which state) "he 
called you by our Gospel, to the obtaining of the glory 
of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

Three things are here distinctly affirmed : first, that 
God had, from the beginning or from everlasting, chosen 
these persons to salvation ; secondly, that he had chosen 
them to salvation through sanctification of the Spirit and 
belief of the truth; and thirdly, that to this state of sal- 
vation he had called them by the Gospel, but manifestly 
not by the Gospel alone, for they were called to the 
obtaining of the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ, not in 
the sense of being invited to it simply, but of being 
qualified for it, and by promise entitled to it. 

Judge ye, now, whether there be not a calling of 
the Spirit which is sovereign and effectual — a calling 

which is the fruil Clf God'fl electing love, and which 

takes place with regard to all those who are brought to 
believe unto novation. It is this which is primarily re- 
spected by the Ap<»llrs when 1 he y speak of t lie high 

vocation of believers, their holy and heavenlj calling! 

and their calling <»ut of darkness into (ilod's marvelous 
light. But suppose we had mistaken the use pf this 



350 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

term in the passages we have considered — a point, per- 
haps, which we should not very readily concede — yet 
suppose it were the fact, the doctrine we have set up in 
this discourse would be no less plain and indubitable, 
viz. : that there is a work of the Holy Spirit, call it by 
what name you will, which is invincible in its nature, 
and which is by way of eminence the true and proper 
cause of men's repenting and believing, or complying 
with the terms of the Gospel. What else can we make 
of such a declaration as this ? " Of his own will begat 
he us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind 
of first-fruits of his creatures," (James i. 18.) The Apos- 
tle had just said, " Do not err, my beloved brethren. 
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and 
cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom 
there is no variableness nor shadow of turning;" and 
then adds, " Of his own will begat he us with the Word 
of truth," as if nothing could be more free and sovereign 
than this operation, and nothing more entirely and 
absolutely God's work. Again : " But God, who is rich 
in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even 
when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together 
with Christ, (by grace are ye saved,) and hath raised us 
up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places 
in Christ Jesus." Even when we were dead in sins, 
according to this, did the love of God find us. But what 
did this love do ? It quickened us together with Christ; 
that is, raised us up from a death of sin to a life of holi- 
ness. But perhaps this spiritual resurrection was the 
consequence of faith ? How can this be, when faith 
itself is rather a consequence of this spiritual quicken- 
ing, or, at any rate, is involved in it ? Hence, says the 
Apostle, in the words which follow : ' ' By grace are ye 
saved through faith, and that (that thing) not of your- 
selves, it is the gift of God : not of works, lest any man 
should boast, for we are his workmanship, created in 
Christ Jesus unto good works." Certainly, then, if we 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 3g| 

are his workmanship, we are not our own workmanship, 
and we do but disparage the riches of his grace, if we 
pretend that we are. What could be more decisive than 
this very passage of the doctrine we have advocated in 
this Lecture, that it is wholly owing to the work of the 
Divine Spirit that men believe unto life eternal ? 

The same truth is taught in all those passages which 
speak of God as circumcising the heart, taking away the 
heart of stone, and giving a heart of flesh ; of his putting 
his fear in the hearts of men, and writing his law there; 
in short, as working in them to will and to do of his own 
good pleasure. So it must be, if man is totally depraved 
by nature, or if the carnal mind be enmity against God, 
not subject to his law, neither indeed can be. For 
whence should there come into the heart of man that 
which is truly good, if not from the regenerating and 
sanctifying power of the Holy Spirit ? Or have we now 
to learn that when men are regenerated, it is partly of 
themselves, and partly from the Spirit of God ? So 
taught not our blessed Lord, when he said, " Except a 
man be born of the Spirit, he cannot see the kingdom of 
God." So taught not his Apostle, when he said, that " to 
as many as received him, to them gave he power to be- 
come the sons of God, even to them that believed on his 
name, who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the 
flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." But I have 
done w hen I have remarked, that though it is God that 
works all our good in us and for us, and though our 
graced are but the fruits of his Spirit, yet there is no 
Constraint upon our [acuities, nor arc we dragged into 
his kingdom against our wills, but only made willing in 
the day of his power. This is the creed of our Church, 
and, I doubt not, the doctrine of the Bible I but, you must 

examine and judge for yourselves. Some of the objec- 
tions which arc offered Against our view of the subject, 

we propose hereafter to consider. 



LECTURE XYI. 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING 



In a preceding Lecture we considered the doctrine of 
effectual calling, as it is embraced in our standards, and, 
as we believe, maintained in the Scriptures. In an effec- 
tual call we included the whole work of conviction and 
conversion — all that is done by the Holy Spirit in turning 
men from darkness to light, and from the power of sin 
and Satan unto God. We did not assert, nor do we be- 
lieve, that this work is accomplished without the use of 
means. God's kingdom is pre-eminently a kingdom of 
means. Both in the natural and moral world, we per- 
ceive him carrying forward a system of operations 
through the medium of second causes, or in connection 
with them. And this is nowhere more true than in the 
work of our salvation, where the Word and ordinances 
of God are among the stated means he employs. Yet 
none of these means would prove effectual without the 
agency of the Holy Spirit. It is the Spirit which thor- 
oughly convinces men of sin, of righteousness, and of 
judgment; the Spirit which enlightens them in the know- 
ledge of Christ, and shows them the necessity of a vital 
union to him, if they would secure the pardon of sin and 
eternal life. Still this is not done without the instrument- 
ality of the Word. They who never hear of Christ with- 
out, never hear of him within ; for " faith cometh by hear- 
ing and hearing by the Word of God." It is the office of 
the Spirit, having enlightened the mind and renewed the 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 353 

will, to persuade and enable us to embrace Jesus Christ 
as he is freely offered to us in the Gospel. As to the 
simple act of renewing the will, if anything is meant by 
it different from giving the will a right direction in view 
of the objects presented, we would not contend for the 
use of means. But if, as some able writers suppose, this 
language implies no more than giving the will a new di- 
rection, or efficiently determining it to choose that which 
is good, then it seems that the Word is concerned as an 
instrument of this change, if it be only in furnishing an 
object on which the right choice terminates. Be this as 
it may, it is sufficient for our purpose to have it under- 
stood that effectual calling is not one single act, but a 
series of acts ; or, more properly, a work including both 
conviction and conversion — a work which is never ac- 
complished without the instrumentality of the Word. 
Hence we read : " Of his own will begat he us by the 
Word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of 
his creatures." And hence, also, it is said : " God hath 
from the beginning chosen you to salvation through sanc- 
tification of the Spirit and belief of the truth, whereunto 
he hath called you by our Gospel to the obtaining of the 
glory of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

That there is an outward call common to all where 
the Gospel comes, and that this call is sincere and ur- 
gent, we hold to be just as certain as that Jesus Christ 
commanded his Disciples to preach the Gospel to every 
creature, without distinction of Nation or condition. And 
thai there is an inward call separate from this — a call of 

the Spirit, which hecomes effectual in all the subjects of 

it, by causing them to comply with the terms of the 

Gospel — We QO more douht than we douht the truth of 

the Bible, or that there is any such thing as salvation 

provided for any of the guilty children of men. 

In SUpporl of this truth we directed our attention to 
such passages as these: u \nd we know that all thin. 



364 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

work together for good to them that love God, to them 
who are the called according to his purpose. For whom 
he did foreknow them he also did predestinate to be con- 
formed to the image of his Son. Moreover, whom he 
did predestinate, them he also called ; and whom he called, 
them he also justified : and whom he justified them he 
also glorified." " We preach Christ crucified, to the 
Jews a stumbling block, and to the Greeks foolishness ; 
but unto them which are called, Christ the power of 
God and the wisdom of God/' " Ye see your calling 
brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, 
not many mighty, not many noble, are called ; but God 
hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound 
the wise," * * "that no flesh should glory in his 
presence." " Be thou partaker of the afflictions of the 
Gospel, according to the power of God which hath saved 
us, and called us with an holy calling ; not according to 
our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, 
which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world 
began. 

Such a call, we remarked, was verified in the case 
of Zaccheus the publican, and of Matthew sitting at the 
receipt of custom ; of Saul of Tarsus, when Jesus met 
him under the walls of Damascus, and of the thousands 
who repented and believed on the day of Pentecost. 

A like call, though under a different name, we showed 
was clearly indicated in those forms of expression which 
set forth our conversion under the figure of a new birth, 
a new creation, and a resurrection from the dead. But 
if the Scriptures were less express on the point, we con- 
tended that the doctrine could not reasonably be denied, 
so long as it is evident that the heart of man is totally 
depraved by nature, every thought and imagination be- 
ing evil and only evil continually. For whence should 
a different temper and spirit be derived, if not from the 
effectual working of the Divine power — a power declared 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 355 

to be according to God's mighty power, which he 
wrought in Christ Jesus when he raised him from the 
dead and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly- 
places ? Can we believe such a power necessary with- 
out questioning the sufficiency of all human help ? Can 
we believe such a power exerted, and the subject of it 
after all remain in the grave of sin and unbelief? Or 
if we suppose the mighty power of God to be concerned 
in raising men from a death of sin, can we imagine that 
they do really assist him in this work, beginning with 
him and carrying on a co-ordinate operation ? What 
can darkness do towards producing light ? and what will 
a selfish heart accomplish towards the production of true 
benevolence ? No stream ever flows higher than its 
fountain ; and no tree ever brings forth fruit different 
from or in opposition to its nature. But against this 

whole statement many are prepared to make objections. 
First. It wars against the liberty of the creature, and 

either supposes or makes him a machine. 

Second. It teaches sinners that they must wait until the 

moving of the waters, or until God works upon them, 

and that all means of course are useless ; nay, 

Third. That if God work in some and not in others, he 

is partial and properly a respecter of persons, contrary 

to his own declaration. And, 

Fourth. Finally, if the doctrine now stated be true, it 

ought not to be preached, since it tends only to confound 

and discourage, and will naturally lead to licentiousness. 
Nothing is easier than to make objections; nor is 

there a truth in the Bible which cannot he assailed in a 

plausible manner by the secret workings of unbelief, or 

by "tin 4 subtle craft iness of men who lie in wait to de- 
ceive.' 1 But what will all our objections amount to if 
they Stand opposed to the revealed truth of God? Many 
objected to the doctrines which Christ himself taught, 
and charged him sometimes with contradiction, and 



355 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

sometimes with blasphemy; but their objections, though 
very confidently urged, did not nullify the truth, nor 
induce our Lord either to take back or modify his words. 
The same thing occurred in relation to his Apostles. 
They advanced things which many could not receive, 
and to which they attached by way of objection the 
most horrible consequences, thereby overthrowing the 
faith of some. Nevertheless, the truth of God was not 
overthrown ; nor can it now be, however numerous or 
plausible the objections which men may urge against 
it. Our great concern should be rightly to interpret 
God's Word, and to receive it precisely in that sense in 
which the Holy Spirit manifestly intended it; and though 
difficulties should be raised which we cannot easily 
solve, they should not abate our confidence in the Divine 
testimony. The Word of the Lord abideth forever, and 
his salvation from generation to generation ; while they 
who oppose it are condemned to consume away. " The 
moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm 
shall eat them like wool/' 

But let us in the spirit of candor examine the objec- 
tions which are brought against the doctrine of an effect- 
ual call. 

First. We are told by some that it militates against the 
liberty of the creature, and either makes or supposes 
him a machine. But how so ? What does an effectual 
call do but make men willing to obey the Gospel, who 
before were unwilling? It removes their aversion to 
God, by shedding abroad his love in their hearts. It 
takes away the heart of stone, and gives an heart of flesh. 
But what constraint is there here which stands opposed 
to moral liberty ? Does not the renewed soul act freely 
in repenting and believing, in loving and obeying the 
truth ? Every child of God knows that he is perfectly 
free and voluntary in all his gracious exercises. Nor 
can we conceive how God's working in him to will ope- 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 3gy 

rates against his freedom, unless you suppose that be- 
cause God works in him to will, therefore he does not 
will ; which is as repugnant to the Bible as to common 
sense. 

" Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power/' 
said the Almighty Father to the Son, which implies that 
they should be willing, in consequence of his power ex- 
erted to make them willing, and who are we that we 
should oppose our notions of human liberty to the posi- 
tive declarations of God. 

But what is human liberty ? I speak of that liberty 
which is essential to every free and accountable agent. 
Does it imply anything more or less, than a power of 
willing or choosing ? or of being the subject of voluntary 
exertion ? We say of a man, he is rational when he 
reasons ; and, with the same propriety, we say that a man 
is voluntary when he wills. We need not inquire into 
the cause. Whatever that may be it alters not the fact. 
It is still true, that he who reasons is rational, and he 
who wills is voluntary. Doubtless there is a cause in 
both cases, and a cause adequate to the effect, unless 
we adopt one of two absurdities, either that an effect 
can exist without a cause, or that the actions of crea- 
tures are not effects. With respect to all holy actions, 
the Scriptures are express in pointing out the cause.* 
They tell us it is God that works in us to will and to do 
of his own good pleasure. They tell us that all true 
believers are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus 
unto good works ; and that all the exercises or graces 
of the new man arc the fruits of the Spirit; and that for 
the very purpose of producing (hem (lie Holy Spirit 
dwells in (he hearts of helicvers, and works in them by 
a power which is almighty. " Hut," says the objector, 
"then (heir wills are certainly determined in one way; 



The ultimate, the controlling caut>e. 



368 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

then it becomes necessary that they should will and act 
as they do, and how is this compatible with their free- 
dom I" I ask, how does it destroy their freedom ? Do 
they not will ? And what other idea can we have of a 
free agent, but of one that wills or acts voluntarily ? 
Must there be no previous certainty in men's actions, no 
motives which certainly determine them to act in one 
way rather than another, in order to their being free ? 
Were it so, the very foreknowledge of God would destroy 
men's freedom; or must there be a state of indifference, 
a freedom from all inclination either to good or to evil, 
to constitute men free ? If this were the fact, sinners 
are not free, who, by nature, are under a strong and 
habitual inclination to do evil ; and if not free, they are 
not accountable, and God is unrighteous who taketh 
vengeance. If this were the fact, the saints and angels 
in heaven are not free ; nor even Jehovah himself, who 
is perpetually and unchangeably inclined to do right, and 
cannot possibly do wrong. And to affirm that there is 
no freedom in heaven, is the same thing as to say that 
there is no virtue there. 

The simple and unvarnished truth on this subject is, 
that God works all our good in us, but in a way which 
does no violence to our faculties. He enlightens our 
understandings, and we see ; he inclines our hearts to 
the right way, and we choose it ; he draws us, and we 
run after him ; and though this is done by an agency 
which is effectual, yet it in no degree militates against 
our freedom. His action in this case is indeed the cause 
of our action. Still it is true that we act, and act freely 
in the full possession of all our powers. It is God who 
sheds abroad his love in the heart, but we who love. It 
is God who gives repentance, but we who repent ; God 
who gives faith, but we who believe ; and so of all other 
graces. 

But what if God does not impart these graces ? Why, 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 359 

it is certain that we shall never have them. They are 
fruits which are not formed in nature's garden ; they are 
fruits which grow not upon our native stock, till it is 
engrafted with a scion from above. How then, you will 
ask, are we to blame if we never possess them ? If they 
are God's gift, and he does not see fit to bestow them, 
can we help it ? And will he condemn us for not being 
what his grace alone can make us ? This is the very 
pith of the controversy which every unregenerate soul 
has with God ; every one, I mean, whose heart is awake 
to this subject. And I should show my ignorance of the 
depth of human depravity, if I supposed that I could at 
once clear away the difficulty, and satisfy the complaining 
heart upon this point. 

Two things, however, are certain, whether men can 
receive them or not, that God is righteous who taketh 
vengeance, and that he will take vengeance on those 
who shall live and die in a state of unbelief. 

But how could God be righteous in taking vengeance 
on the unbeliever unless his unbelief were a sin, and 
how could unbelief be a sin, unless faith and its attend- 
ant graces were a duty? It is plain from the Scripture, 
that men are bound to repent and believe, and to yield 
universal obedience to the Gospel. But what is the 
foundation of this obligation? Why, says the Arminian, 
if they mil do the best they can with their wicked 
hearts. God will give them his grace, and enable them 

to repent and believe. But this is manifestly a departure 
from the Bible. There is not one promise of grace to 
t\w graceless endeavors of unrenewed men in all the 

honk of God. And if there weir, ii wonld not he their 

immediate duty to repent and believe, but only to use 

the means to gel faith and repentance, w Inch might he 
at the end of one year, <>r of (en years. But the lan- 
guage of God to sinners is, "To-day if ye will hear his 
voice, harden not vour hearts n — "Behold now is the 
24 



370 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 



accepted time." He says nothing of to-morrow ; nay, 
" God now requireth all men everywhere to repent." 
The command no sooner reaches them than their obli- 
gation is complete. If they live in impenitence another 
moment they violate the command, and dying in this 
state, they will bring down a double vengeance upon 
their heads. But still the question returns, what is the 
foundation of their obligation to repent or believe ? I 
answer, the command of God. If you ask why this com- 
mand binds, I reply, because we are complete moral 
agents, though fallen, and the duty enjoined is such as 
becomes a righteous God to require of creatures possess- 
ing our capacity, and placed in our condition. This is 
the footing on which God's Word puts this subject from 
beginning to end, and here will conscience place it in a 
dying hour. To make our duty to repent or believe to 
depend in any measure upon the gift of the Spirit, is to 
overthrow God's law, and to annihilate the grace of 
the Gospel. It overturns God's law. Because such a 
position goes upon the absurd principle that we are bound 
to obey God only where we have a heart, and to obey 
him in such degree only as we have that heart. What 
becomes then of his authority ? Our dispositions are the 
only measure and rule of our conduct. I need not say 
that here is no law, unless you would call that a law 
which licenses every one to do as he pleases. 

It annihilates the grace of the Gospel. For if we are 
not bound to repent and believe, whether God grant us 
his Spirit or not, then God cannot, in justice, call us to 
repentance or faith unless he send his Spirit to work 
these tempers in us. And what is this, but to make the 
gift of the Holy Spirit in his sanctifying power (one of 
the freest and richest of God's favors) a matter of debt, 
and not of mercy or grace ? But putting aside this train 
of reasoning, let me make the appeal directly to every 
man's bosom, if anything can be more just and reason- 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 37 J 

able than the requisitions which God makes upon us ? 
He requires us to love him who is infinitely lovely ; to 
be thankful to him from whom all our blessings flow ; to 
fear him who is clothed with eternal power and justice ; 
and to trust in him whose mercy is revealed in the Gos- 
pel, and whose truth, having its foundations deeper 
than the everlasting mountains, is absolutely inviolable. 
Wherein we have done wrong, he requires us to be 
sorry for that wrong, and with unfeigned sincerity to 
forsake it. Is there anything hard or unjust in all this ? 
Does not every one of these requirements approve itself 
to our reason and conscience ? And still it is a truth, 
demonstrated by experience as well as by the Word of 
God, that such is our depravity that we shall never truly 
comply with one of these commands, unless we are en- 
lightened and sanctified from above. Our duty and our 
dependence are both obvious, nor do they in the least 
degree clash with each other. Let us never more hear, 
then, that our dependence on God destroys our liberty 
and accountability, or converts us into machines. The 
fact is, if we were machines, we should have no duty to 
perform, and of course should require no special aid to 
perform it. Nor should we require any aid as it is — I 
mean any peculiar and special aid — if it were not for our 
deep-rooted depravity, which renders us disinclined to 
the duties which God has most justly demanded. 

Second. Hut again, it is said that thr doctrine of an ef- 
fectual call teaches sinners that they have nothing to do 
but to sit down and wait for the operations of the Spirit. 

If it is God who begins with sinners, and God who by 

his sovereign and almighty grace converts them, it is of 
no use for them t<> attempt anything; they may as well 

rend a novel as the Bible, as well visit the tavern and 
playhouse as the COIirtS of the Lord, as well curse their 
God and look Upward as to how their knees before him 
in prayer. Two things are taken for granted in this ob- 



372 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

jection, which are utterly and manifestly false. First, 
that because God works in men to will and to do, there- 
fore they are not hound to do anything till he does work. 
And secondly, that God does not work by means. 

The first thing taken for granted in this objection is, 
that because God works in men to will and to do of 
his good pleasure, they are not bound to do anything 
until he does work. But are not men moral agents 
and under law to God as we have before shown, and 
as every man's conscience will compel him to acknow- 
ledge ? And if so, are they not bound to do all that 
God requires without delay, and without taking into 
view any other consideration but his command, as the 
ground of their obedience ? Their obligation is full and 
complete, whether he grant them the aids of his spe- 
cial grace or not, nor does their obligation depend in 
the smallest degree upon this circumstance ; otherwise 
his law is a dead letter, and his grace no longer grace. 
So far, then, is it from being true that sinners have 
nothing to do until God works in them, that they have 
everything to do which the Gospel enjoins ; and if they 
neglect it for a single moment, it is at the awful peril 
of eternal death. So it must be ; or God must give up 
his government over his rational creatures, because they 
have rebelled against him, and are madly disposed to 
persist in their rebellion. But let men beware how 
they tread upon this ground. God is jealous for his 
name, and will vindicate the rights and honors of his 
government though millions perish in hell to all eter- 
nity, as the just and fearful consequence. It is an 
easy thing now for the sinner to plead his moral impo- 
tence as his excuse, and to find fault with God for not 
giving him grace to comply with the terms of the Gos- 
pel. But when God shall awake to the judgment he will 
convince all that are ungodly of all their ungodly deeds, 
and of all the wicked thoughts and hard speeches which 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 373 

they have indulged against him. The light of eternity- 
will dispel the delusion, and they will see with eyes never 
to be closed, that God is in the right and they in the 
wrong — that all his commandments are holy, just and 
good — and that they are utterly without excuse, for not 
having yielded to them a ready aud cheerful compli- 
ance. 

The other position assumed in this objection, and 
which is plainly void of all foundation is, that God does 
not work by means. For if he does work by means, 
how can it be true that it will signify nothing for the 
sinner to attempt anything, or to put himself in the way 
of means ? How can it be true, that he may as well be 
in the tavern or playhouse, as in the house of the Lord ? 
That he is as likely to go to heaven by pouring contempt 
upon God's Word, as by seriously and prayerfully read- 
ing it, and so of other means which God employs to con- 
vey truth to the mind, and to stir up the conscience of 
the sinner. I admit that God sometimes works without 
means, that is, without the stated and ordinary means of 
reading and hearing his Word, calling upon his name, 
and receiving instruction from the conversation and 
pious examples of others. I have known men struck 
under conviction in the ball room, at the card table, and 
while fearless of God's majesty, uttering the most awful 
oaths and imprecations. Sometimes by an accidental 
word dropt in conversation from the lips of a child, or 
from one who had not the remotest design of adminis- 
tering reproof or conviction. Saul was convicted, and 
converted, too, on his way to Damascus, breathing out 
threatening^ and slaughter against the followers of Jesus. 
But what then? These arc facts, out, of (he ordinary 
course, and occur chiefly to illustrate (lie efficacy ami 
sovereignty of Divine grace. They establish no rule for 
judging of probabilities. We cannot argue from them that 

means are of DO avail. On (lie contrary, we are certain 



374 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

that means are of high importance in the matter of our 
salvation. We know it from the positive declarations of 
God himself, because he tells us, " that faith cometh by 
hearing, and hearing by the Word of God ;" and that it 
is by the foolishness of preaching, (or what men call 
foolishness,) it pleases him to save them that believe. 
We know it from the general course of his providence. 
We see persons brought under conviction of sin, from 
their attendance upon the means of God's appointment ; 
we see them brought out of darkness into his marvelous 
light, while attending upon the same means. We see 
the Lord's people, built up in their most holy faith, be- 
coming more firmly rooted in the doctrines of the cross* 
and waxing stronger and stronger in the grace that is in 
Christ Jesus, through the agency of means ; and this is 
the steady course of things from generation to genera- 
tion. Nay, we are assured from well-founded observa- 
tion, that they who are most constant and most serious 
in their attendance upon the means of God's ordaining, 
are most likely — other things being equal — to receive 
the quickening power of his grace. So it is reasonable 
to expect, if God will honor his own institutions and has 
not established them in vain. How presumptuous and 
how dangerous is it, then, for any man to say, If God 
does not work, I will not work ; if he does not begin 
with me, I will neglect his institutions, and despise his 
sovereign authority. What is this but to adopt the lan- 
guage of ancient contemners of God's mercy, "No, there 
is no hope ; I have loved strangers, and after them will 
I go ?" How righteous a thing would it be with God to 
say of such persons, Let them alone; in a little while I 
will begin a work with them which shall never have an 
end, a work of wonder and astonishment, a work of ter- 
ror and of wrath. 

But do not mistake the purport of these remarks. 
While we hold that there is vastly more hope of those 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 375 

who solemnly and prayerfully consider their state as 
sinners, who tremble at the awful denunciations of God's 
wrath against the wicked, and who diligently attend 
upon the means of instruction; I say, while we hold 
there is vastly more hope of persons in these circum- 
stances, than of the thoughtless and inconsiderate, who 
either do not attend upon the means of God's appoint- 
ment, or attend in a very careless and heartless manner, 
yet our hope is not founded in any degree upon the idea, 
that they are growing better, or in the temper of their 
minds approximating to a state of holiness. Nor yet 
upon the supposition that they are doing anything to 
which a promise of renewing grace is annexed, for we 
openly maintain that there is no such promise made in 
the Bible to the doings of unrenewed men. Oar hope 
arises simply from the fact, that the Lord is dealing with 
them in a special way, or that they are found in attend- 
ance upon those means through which he ordinarily dis- 
penses the blessings of his grace. 

Third. Let me hold your attention a few moments 
longer, while we consider briefly the objection so often 
raised against the effectual calling of believers, that it 
makes God a respecter of persons. 

Popular as this objection is, it is in reality the most 
futile of all, and is founded entirely upon a misconcep- 
tion or perversion of terms. Let any man once settle in 
his mind what it is to be a respecter of persons, and this 
objection will a nnish into thin BIT. I know of no candid 
and well-informed Arminian who protends to offer it. 
What is the point here objected to I Why, that God 
docs more for some than others : which is certainly true 
if he call some l>\ his special and almighty grace to the 
knowledge and acknowledgment of the truth, and does 
not thus call all. But while we maintain this fact here 
stated, we deny that (*oi\ is a respecter of persons. To 

be a respecter of persons is wholly a distinct thing Irom 



376 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 



making a difference among individuals in the distribu- 
tion of favors. The expression has no sense analogous 
to this, neither in the Word of God, nor in any writer of 
acknowledged correctness, either ancient or modern. 
To have respect to persons is to prefer one man to 
another on some improper account : " as when a judge 
acquits a criminal because he is rich or powerful, or is 
his friend or relation," while he would have condemned 
him if none of these circumstances had been permitted 
to bias his mind and to pervert the course of justice. 
Take another example. I owe two men an equal sum 
of money, and their claims on me are equally strong for 
immediate payment ; but because one is my friend, and 
I look to him for some future accommodation, I pay him 
at his call, and refuse to pay the other. In this case I 
should be a respecter of persons, and a perverter of 
justice. But where justice is not concerned, where no 
rights are contravened by my giving or withholding, 
there is no room for exercising this kind of partiality. 
There I cannot be a respecter of persons, distribute my 
bounty as I will. 

Dr. Whitby, who is known to be a violent opposer of 
the doctrine of sovereign and efficacious grace, very 
justly observes, "that the bestowing of such benefits as 
are merely gratuitous and undeserved, does not argue a 
respect of persons ; neither is it respect of persons to 
prefer one before another when we have a right and it is 
our pleasure so to do." 

This is in exact coincidence with the Bible, which 
always uses this term in relation to matters of right, and 
generally in relation to the administration of justice. 
Thus in the nineteenth of Leviticus : " Ye shall do no un- 
righteousness in judgment ; thou shalt not respect the per- 
son of the poor, nor honor the person of the mighty ; but in 
righteousness shalt thou judge thy neighbor." And again 
in Deut. i. : " Ye shall not respect persons in judgment, 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 377 

but ye shall hear the small as well as the great." 2 Chron. 
xix. 6 : " And he said to the judges, take heed what ye 
do ; for ye judge not for man, but for the Lord ; for 
there is no iniquity with the Lord our God, nor respect 
of persons, nor taking of gifts." So in Proverbs : "It is 
not good to have respect to persons in judgment." This 
is the current use of the phrase throughout the Old Tes- 
tament, and with which the New perfectly corresponds. 
Thus in the tenth of Acts Peter says, " of a truth I per- 
ceive that God is no respecter of persons ; but in every 
nation, he that feareth God and worketh righteousness 
is accepted of him" — that is, he treats every man ac- 
cording to his character, whether he be Jew or Gentile, 
and not according to his outward condition and external 
relations. If he be a truly good man he will accept him 
to favor ; if he be otherwise, he will not accept him. 
But this he does in the quality of a righteous Judge ; 
and to name but one passage more : " Who will render 
to every man according to his deeds. To them who 
by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory and 
honor and immortality, eternal life : but unto them that 
are contentious, and do not obey the truth, but obey un- 
righteousness, indignation and wrath, tribulation and 
anguish, upon every soul of man that doeth evil; of the 
Jew first, and also of the Gentile. But glory, honor, and 
peace to every man that worketh good ; to the Jew first, 
and also to the Gentile j for there is no respect of persons 
with God." 

These passages are too plain t<> need comment. They 
teach in the most decisive manner, that Inning respect 
to persons is a thing totally distinct from gratuitously 
conferring favors, that i< relates t<> matters of justice and 
equity only, and is merely the perversion of justice, or 
the contravention of right, And if it were not so, God 
would certainly be a respecter of persons. If bestowing 



378 0N EFFECTUAL CALLING. 

more upon one than another would lay a foundation for 
this charge — what should we say to his making one man 
rich and another poor — of his endowing one with all the 
blessings of an ingenious and well-cultivated mind, and 
raising another but one degree above idiocy ? What 
should we say to his sending the Gospel to one nation 
and not to another, leaving millions to perish in the dark- 
ness of pagan idolatry, while the light of salvation shines 
upon others ? But we forbear : God claims it as his 
prerogative to do what he will with his own ; and 
whether men contend or submit, he will exercise this 
prerogative. Nothing, surely, is more entirely his own 
than the gifts and callings of his grace. These he will 
bestow when and where he pleases, and often upon the 
most unworthy. It was in view of this sovereign pre- 
rogative that Jesus once said, "I thank thee Father, Lord 
of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things," &c. 

But how appalling, says one, are these expressions ; 
and how discouraging the truth they seem to convey. 

Fourth. Would it not be better to conceal this sove- 
reign and discriminating grace of God, admitting that it 
is found in the Bible, seeing many are offended with it, 
and not a few who abuse it, perhaps, to their own de- 
struction ? 

I have not time to make a full reply to this objection. 
But it is enough to say, are we wiser than God ? He 
has proclaimed his discriminating grace by the mouth of 
Apostles and Prophets, nay, by the mouth of his own 
dear Son. He has proclaimed it in his providence for 
the space of six thousand years, and is every day pro- 
claiming it in the events before our eyes. The different 
moral conditions of those whom we see around us, are a 
solemn and expressive testimony of God to this truth. 
Who are we then, brethren, that we should withstand 
God ? As for me, I dare not — for my own soul's sake — 



ON EFFECTUAL CALLING. 379 

nor for the sake of your souls. Let us, then, be found 
faithful in receiving and maintaining the truths which his 
wisdom and goodness have revealed, and let us pray 
with renewed fervor for his Holy Spirit to make them 
effectual to our salvation, and the salvation of others. 



LECTURE XVII 



ON JUSTIFICATION 



WHAT IS JUSTIFICATION! 



The answer given in the Shorter Catechism is, " Jus- 
tification is an act of God's free grace, wherein he par- 
doneth all our sins, and accepteth us as righteous in his 
sight only for the righteousness of Christ imputed to us 
and received by faith alone." In the Confession of Faith, 
Chapter XL, this doctrine is expressed more fully thus : 
"Those whom God effectually calleth he also freely 
justifieth — not by infusing righteousness into them," (an 
opinion of the Church of Rome,) " but by pardoning their 
sins, and by accounting and accepting their persons as 
righteous, not for anything wrought in them or done by 
them, but for Christ's sake alone ; not by imputing faith 
itself, the act of believing, or any other evangelical obe- 
dience, to them, as their righteousness, but by imparting 
the obedience and satisfaction of Christ unto them, they 
receiving and resting on him and his righteousness by 
faith ; which faith they have not of themselves, it is the 
gift of God." This faith, however, which is the alone 
instrument of justification, is declared " not to be alone 
in the person justified, but is ever accompanied with all 
other saving graces, and is no dead faith, but worketh 
by love." With this statement agree the Articles of the 



ON JUSTIFICATION. ^Sl 

Church of England. " We are accounted righteous be- 
fore God/' says their eleventh Article, "only for the 
merits of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by faith, 
and not for our own works or deservings. Wherefore, 
that we are justified by faith only, is a most wholesome 
doctrine and very full of comfort." We present these 
ancient symbols, not so much as a matter of authority, 
though well entitled to regard, as to give a clear and 
concise view of the subject, and the high importance 
attached to it by the great and good in other days. I 
know of no errors which at different periods have troubled 
the Church either more subtle or more poisonous than 
those which relate to the doctrine of justification. All 
the powers of human ingenuity have been set to work 
to devise some scheme of acceptance with God different 
from that which is revealed in the Bible. For many 
hundred years antecedent to the Reformation, men were 
taught to trust to pilgrimages and penances — to alms- 
giving — to the prayers of saints and the senseless homage 
paid to their relics — to an ascetic and monastic life — to 
everything, in short, but to the foundation which God 
has laid in Zion, the meritorious obedience and sacrifice 
of the Lord Jesus Christ. On no point, therefore, did 
the great Reformers labor more than to recover and 
establish the true doctrine of justification by the imputed 
righteousness of the Redeemer. This they considered 
;is so vital to the Gospel scheme, that Christianity with- 
out it was only a smoother way to the gates of perdition. 
"On this article alone," said the famous Martin Luther, 
"stands or lulls the Church. " Happy would it have 
been lor the Protestant world, had this doctrine been 

left undisturbed upon the foundation on which it was 

placed by the Reformers -a foundation plainly revealed 
in (he Bible, and lull of hope and consolation. But 
human pride, which Loves to plume itself with its own 
imaginary merits, could not, brook a doctrine w Inch strips 



382 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

man so entirely of all ideas of personal worthiness, and 
makes his salvation from first to last a matter of mere 
grace — the deliverance of a culprit from justly-deserved 
punishment, while all the good he receives is bestowed 
wholly out of regard to the righteousness of another. 
The consequence has been, men have perverted this 
doctrine. They have taken the crown from the head of 
Christ, and placed it upon that of a guilty rebel. In- 
stead of laying down the righteousness of the Saviour as 
the only meritorious ground of justification before God, 
they have brought in the system of human contrition 
and human endeavor as making a part, and a prominent 
part, of that righteousness, on account of which a sinner 
is to hope for the absolving sentence and final approba- 
tion of his Judge. And I lament to state that this spu- 
rious notion of justification is to be found not only in 
churches which are professedly Arminian, and where the 
sentiment is openly avowed and defended, but in other 
churches also. The truth is, our fallen nature loves that 
system which allows to it a part of the glory of our sal- 
vation ; while it feels a repugnance to everything where- 
by God is exalted and man is laid low. Hence it comes 
to pass that, in every country where the Gospel has been 
preached, a disposition has been shown to reject the 
righteousness which is of God, and to seek justification 
as it were by the works of the law. We know it was so 
with the great body of the Jews in the time of Christ 
and his Apostles. We know it was so with many in 
the early Christian churches, which led St. Paul to op- 
pose this error so pointedly and laboriously in his epis- 
tles to the churches of Rome and Galatia. So funda- 
mental indeed did he consider this error, that he declared 
those who received and propagated it as accursed, be- 
cause they subverted the Gospel of Christ. In the re- 
marks which I shall submit on this subject, I propose to 
consider : 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 3g3 

First. What is implied in our being justified before 
God. 

Second. What that righteousness is, on account of 
which God justifies us. 

Third. What is intended by the imputation of this 
righteousness. 

Fourth. The nature of a justifying faith and its influ- 
ence in the matter of justification. 

Fifth. Wherein it appears that we are justified freely 
by God's grace. 

First. What is implied in our being justified before 
God. To justify a man in the sense in which the term 
is often used, both in the Scriptures and in common life, 
is to vindicate his innocence in a matter where he has 
been supposed guilty. Thus Job says, " If I justify 
myself, mine own mouth shall condemn me ;" and again, 
when speaking to his friends, " God forbid that I should 
justify you," that is, that I should vindicate your con- 
duct, or sustain your cause. We read of Wisdom's 
being justified of her children, and of all the people's 
justifying God. Here, to justify, is simply to declare 
one innocent, or to vindicate him from some supposed 
impeachment. 

To justify, in the language of human judicatories, is 
to acquit the accused of the crime alleged, and to declare 
hi in rectus or just in the eye of the law. This is a fre- 
quent use of the term in the Bible, and perhaps may be 
regarded as its original and primary use. But in neither 
of these senses can it be said that God justifies the sinner 

when lie pardons and restores liini to favor. He surely 
does not vindicate the sinner's innocence, or declare 1 him 

not guilty of the offences he stands charged with in the 

eye of the law. This could not he done consistently 
With the truth of facts. These oll'cnces exist, and it will 
remain eternally true that they exist; nor can there a 
time come in which it will not he equally true that the 



384 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

sinner who committed them deserves to be punished. 
He may be forgiven, and his liability to punishment re- 
moved ; but his desert of punishment is as indelible as 
his being, and can no more be destroyed, than the fact 
of his transgression. It cannot be supposed, therefore, 
that God, whose judgment is according to truth, will 
either judge or declare the sinner to be righteous, viewed 
as a moral agent, and as he stands related to the Divine 
law ; for he will not judge or declare him to be what he 
is not. He may treat him as though he were righteous, 
by not reckoning sin to his account, or rather by not 
punishing him for his sin, and by bestowing upon him 
important benefits. But the state of facts does not 
admit of the sinner's being declared righteous in the eye 
of the law, making that the rule of judgment, since, by 
that rule, he is most certainly and justly condemned. I 
know it has been supposed, that though the law condemns 
him, in his own personal character, it justifies him in the 
character of a believer, and as he stands related to Christ, 
who is his head. But our doctrine is, that the law nei- 
ther knows nor can know him in any other character 
than his own. It considers him merely as a subject of 
God's moral government, and while it ascertains his 
duties and relations, it determines his merit or demerit. 
The law, strictly speaking, knows nothing of Christ, and 
contains no provision for justifying or condemning men, 
but that which is found in its precepts and penalties. If 
men were to be justified by the law, as would have been 
the case had not the terms of the first covenant been 
broken, it must be by the deeds of the law ; and their 
justification would be the sentence of the supreme Judge, 
declaring them to be righteous according to the law. 
This, we admit, would be a legal and forensic transac- 
tion. But the justification proposed in the Gospel, is 
different from this. Here, it is not justifying the right- 
eous whom the law approves, but the ungodly whom the 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 



385 



law condemns. God, in justifying men, therefore, in 
this way, does not proceed according to law, but as a 
sovereign Judge, acts above law in the same manner as 
the supreme magistrate acts above law, when he pardons 
a man condemned by the criminal laws of his country. 
The law is not overlooked in this case, for then no pardon 
could be needed or dispensed. But the penalty of the law 
is set aside, as an act of mercy, vouchsafed by the power 
or authority of the supreme executive. Here, every one 
can see that the transgressor is neither considered nor 
declared to be righteous ; so far from it, that his guilt is 
acknowledged in the very act of pardon. What is done 
is simply to reverse the sentence of condemnation, or, if 
you please, to remit the punishment, and restore the 
criminal to favor. 

Thus it is, substantially, when God pardons and justi- 
fies the sinner. He does not consider or declare him 
righteous in the eye of the law, but he treats him, in 
two important respects, as if he were ; he acquits him 
from condemnation, and entitles him to life. 

We do not pretend that the cases are precisely paral- 
lel ; but their agreement is sufficiently obvious in the 
point to be illustrated. In both cases, the guilty escape 
punishment, not by the ordinary forms of judicial process, 
not by being considered or declared righteous, but by 
being forgiven, in a way consistent with the public good, 
and by an authority competent to dispense this mercy. 

These remarks are intended to show that Gospel justi- 
fication is not the same as legal justification-— while yet 
such a resemblance exists between them as to warrant 

the use of a legal or forensic term. By overlooking this 
circumstance, ami by supposing that the justification un- 
der tin' Gospel is to he explained solely by a reference 
to human tribunals, many have made the whole business 
of our pardon and acceptance with God a mere Legal 
proee- 

25 



3g(5 °N JUSTIFICATION. 

This, we conceive, is in no degree warranted by the 
language of the Bible. There we are not said to be 
justified by the law, nor according to the law, but to be 
justified by faith without the deeds of the law ; while 
the righteousness of God therein is said to be manifested 
without the law, being witnessed by the law and the 
prophets. But, though not justified by the law, still it 
is important to remark that the law is not overlooked in 
the matter of our justification. It did not become the 
holiness and justice of the Supreme Lawgiver to justify 
the sinner till the violated law had been magnified and 
made honorable, both in its precept and penalty. This 
was done by Christ, when he obeyed and suffered in our 
stead ; and this being done, the door was opened to ex- 
tend two benefits to the believing sinner — to wit, par- 
don and eternal life — both of which are comprehended 
in the act of justification. 

That justification is thus extensive, including the bene- 
fits now mentioned, may be seen from the following pas- 
sages : " Being justified by faith, we have peace with 
God through our Lord Jesus Christ." To have peace 
with God is more than to be delivered from wrath. It 
implies a state of favor and acceptance, which involves 
in it the blessing of eternal life : and therefore the Apos- 
tle adds, in the following verse : " By whom also " that 
is, by Christ, " we have access unto this grace, wherein 
we stand and rejoice in the hope of the glory of God." 
And again : " But God commendeth his love towards us, 
that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." 
" Much more then being justified by his blood, we shall 
be saved from wrath through him. For if, when we 
were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death 
of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be 
saved by his life." That this salvation by Christ's life 
includes in it the immortal happiness of the soul, as the 
fruit of justification, seems perfectly certain from the fol- 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 3g7 

lowing declaration in the same chapter : " For the judg- 
ment was by one to condemnation ; but the free gift is 
of many offences unto justification. For if, by one man's 
offence death reigned by one, much more they which 
receive abundance of grace, and of the gift of right- 
eousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ/' 

Remission of sins and an inheritance among them that 
are sanctified, are mentioned together, as blessings joint- 
ly obtained by faith in the Redeemer ; and Christ speaks 
of passing from death unto life as the fruit of faith, and 
which he opposes to a state of condemnation : " Verily, 
I say unto you, he that heareth my word and believeth 
on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not 
come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto 
life." Which leads me to a single remark more on the 
nature of justification — to wit : that it is absolute, and 
not conditional, as some have suggested. By which I 
mean, that justification once passed upon the sinner is 
passed forever. The eternal Judge, when he absolves 
him and grants him a title to life, does not do it hypo- 
thetically — suspending the favor or the continuance of 
it, upon conditions yet to be performed, and which are in 
themselves uncertain. When he forgives the penitent 
and believing, it is with a promise that he will remem- 
ber their sins and iniquities no more ; when he bestows 
on them the gift of righteousness and the consequent 
title to eternal life, lie neither repents of it nor takes it 
buck again. But the consoling language he holds to 
each of them is: "I will be thy God, and thou shalt be 
my son." 

The perpetuity of this privilege is clearly implied 
in (lie promises, "he that believeth shall be saved;" 
4t iiikI he that believeth, hath everlasting life, and shall 
not come into condemnation." For where would the 
truth of such promises he, if eternal life were not infalli- 
bly connected with the very first act of faith. But the 



388 ON JUSTIFICATION. 

Scriptures are everywhere exceedingly explicit on this 
subject. They declare " that there is no condemnation 
to them that are in Christ Jesus/' whose character it is 
" to walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." That 
those whom God predestinates to be conformed to the 
image of his Son, he calls ; and whom he calls he justi- 
fies, and whom he justifies, them also he glorifies. And 
in the assurance that all who receive justification will 
continue in this state, the Apostle puts this challenge : 
" It is God that justifieth ; who is he that condemneth ? 
It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who 
is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh inter- 
cession for us." But w r hat if these justified persons were 
to cease to believe and to obey the Gospel ? Would not 
the sentence of condemnation return, and they fall under 
the weight of God's vengeance ? Undoubtedly. But 
this is an event which can never happen. God hath said 
of all those with whom he makes his new and everlast- 
ing covenant, " I will put my law in their inward parts, 
and write it in their hearts, and I will be their God and 
they shall be my people ;" and again, " I will not turn 
away from them to do them good, but I will put my fear 
in their hearts, and they shall not depart from me." 
" For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and 
their sins and iniquities will I remember no more." 
Depart they would, if left to themselves ; but they are 
kept by the power of God "through faith unto salvation, 
ready to be revealed in the last time." We hold that 
they, and they only, who endure unto the end, will be 
saved ; but we maintain that all true believers will thus 
endure, because God, that cannot lie, hath said it, and 
because we doubt neither his power nor his mercy. 
Jesus, who knows our weakness, and who through that 
weakness perfects his own strength, has declared, " My 
sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow 
me : and I give unto them eternal life, and they shall 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 3g9 

never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my 
hand." "My father which gave them me is greater 
than all : and none is able to pluck them out of my 
father's hand." Nothing can he more decisive. But 
though none can pluck them out of God's hand, may 
they not fall, or thrust themselves out ? No, my brethren. 
Because it is plain, if they might fall, or thrust themselves 
out, others might be the instruments of their fall. For 
there is no sin which we do or can commit, to which 
others may not tempt us. But besides, whether of them- 
selves alone or through the agency of others, were they 
to fall out of Christ's hands, they would perish, which is 
contrary to our Lord's assertion in the passage that they 
shall never perish. 

Relying, then, on the covenanted security which God 
has given us on this point, may we not say with the 
Apostle, " Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? 
shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or 
nakedness, or peril, or sword ? Nay, in all these things 
we are more than conquerors ;" through whom ? our- 
selves or our fellow-Christians ? No, " through him that 
loved us," and called us into this grace as the fruit of 
this love. "For I am persuaded that neither death, nor 
life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things 
present, nor things to come, nor heighth, nor depth, nor 
any other creature, shall be able to separate us from 
the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

Having thus explained the nature of justification as it 
is, an act of God absolving the sinner from the sins or 
from the punishment due to them, ami bestowing upon 
him real and unfailing title to eternal life, I proceed, 
in the 

Second place, to consider What that, righteousness is, 

on account of which God justifies us. Be assured, 
brethren, God will not justify us without a righteous- 
ness, nor without a righteousness which does honor to his 



390 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

law, and sets its authority high in the sight of the universe ; 
and it is, perhaps, for this reason chiefly, that our pardon 
and acceptance with him takes the name of justification. 
But the question here is, what is that righteousness ? 
Most certainly, it cannot be our own perfect personal 
righteousness, according to the law. First, because we 
have no such righteousness, and secondly, because this 
is not the righteousness supposed or demanded in the 
justification of sinners, the law not being made the direct 
rule of judgment in the case : nor is it the righteousness 
of faith considered as a moral virtue. We read, indeed, 
of the righteousness of faith. We read that "Abraham 
believed God, and it was accounted unto him for righteous- 
ness." And again : " That to him that worketh not, but 
believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is 
counted unto him for righteousness." But still, we are 
not to suppose that faith and the fruits of it are, by the 
Gospel, substituted for a perfect legal righteousness. 
This, men are apt to suppose ; they are prone to imagine, 
that as under the first covenant or the law of works, men 
were to be justified by a sinless obedience, so under the 
new covenant or the Gospel dispensation, they are to be 
justified by faith, and the sincere though imperfect obe- 
dience which attends it, making faith and its moral fruits 
to hold the same place under the Gospel that perfect 
obedience held under the law. 

There are two important reasons why this view cannot 
be admitted. One is, that the righteousness which God 
regards as the ground of our justification, is declared to be 
a righteousness without works, which would not be true, if 
faith, as a moral virtue, were accepted as our righteousness; 
or, which is the same thing, if our imperfect obedience were 
substituted in the room of a perfect ; for then, obedience, 
to a certain extent, would still be our righteousness, and 
the formal cause of our justification. It could not then 
be said, that " to him that worketh not is the reward 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 39 1 

reckoned, and righteousness imputed." Because, here 
is a work, though an imperfect work, laid as the founda- 
tion of our acceptance with God. 

But a more obvious and important reason why we can- 
not admit that faith — considered as a moral virtue, or as 
an act of obedience — is the righteousness which God im- 
putes to men for their justification, is, that the Scriptures 
distinctly speak of another righteousness as the founda- 
tion of this mercy ; and it would be absurd to suppose 
that they speak of two. 

They declare that Christ's righteousness is the meri- 
torious ground of a sinner's pardon and acceptance with 
God. Thus Paul, in the fifth of Romans : " For if by one 
man's offence death reigned by one, much more they 
which receive abundance of grace and the gift of right- 
eousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ." 
" Therefore, as by the offence of one, judgment came 
upon all men to condemnation ; even so, by the righteous- 
ness of one, the free gift came upon all men unto justifi- 
cation of life. For as by one man's disobedience many 
were made sinners, so by the obedience of one, many 
shall be made righteous ; that as sin hath reigned unto 
death, even so might grace reign through righteousness 
unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord." This pas- 
sage alone proves that Christ's righteousness, and that 
only, is the true and proper ground of a sinner's justifi- 
cation before God. But the Bible holds a similar lan- 
guage in other places. Christ is called by the Prophets, 
God's righteous branch \\ Inch he was to raise up unto 
the house of David; God's righteous servant, by the 
knowledge of whom many should ho justified, and the 
Lord, our righteousness. Daniel speaks of him as one 
who was to finish transgression, and make an end of 
sins; ono who, having made reconciliation tor iniquity, 
should bring in everlasting righteousness. What can 
this righteousness be, but the immediate fruit ol his obe- 



392 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

dience and death, when in our nature he fulfilled the 
precept and sustained the awful penalty of the Divine 
law ? All that he did and suffered upon earth was at 
the command of the Father, and might, therefore, well 
take the name of righteousness. And we know, from the 
testimony of an Apostle, that it was by his doing God's 
will that a door was opened for being purged from our 
offences, and for receiving the promise of an eternal 
inheritance. 

This righteousness of Christ is the righteousness of the 
Mediator, and embraces in it two things : satisfaction to 
the penalty, and obedience to the precept of the Divine 
law; or, to use the words of a great divine,* It is both a 
negative and positive righteousness. It provides against 
the curse incurred by transgression, and it equally pro- 
vides for the gift of eternal life. As one great whole, it 
lays a foundation for God to wipe away the remem- 
brance of our sins, and to make us joint heirs with his 
Son of a crown of righteousness and glory which fadeth 
not away. This is the righteousness so often called the 
righteousness of God in the New Testament, and which 
is so called because it is eminently of God's providing, 
and a righteousness which he himself applies in the jus- 
tification of sinners. This is the righteousness which is 
without the law, being witnessed by the law and the 
Prophets ; the righteousness which is by faith of Jesus 
Christ, unto all, and upon all them that believe, whether 
they be Jews or Gentiles ; the righteousness which Paul 
wished to possess, " When he desired to be found in 
Christ, not having his own righteousness which is of the 
law, but the righteousness which is through the faith of 
Christ, even the righteousness which is of God by faith." 
And because this righteousness magnifies the law, and 
opens the way for God to be just, (just to his own honor 
and to the interest of his government,) and yet the jus- 
tifier of him that believeth in Jesus, Christ is said to be 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 393 

the end of the law for righteousness to every one that 
believeth. Who can doubt, then, whether Christ's right- 
eousness alone is the true and proper ground of a sin- 
ner's justification before God. 

But I hear it said, Was not Abraham justified by faith ? 
and is not his faith said to be imputed to him for right- 
eousness ? True : but how did his faith justify him ? 
Not on the ground of its being a righteousness which 
was accepted in the room of a perfect legal righteous- 
ness ; but as it united him to Christ, and thus brought 
him under the influence of his righteousness, as we shall 
have occasion to show in a subsequent part of this sub- 
ject. He was not justified without faith, nor without a 
living, operative faith. But neither his faith nor his 
works were his justifying righteousness — that on account 
of which he was acquitted from punishment and entitled 
to reward. Had this been the case, it could not have 
been said, " that he had not whereof to glory." There 
would, at least, have been some cause for his glorying 
before men, though not before God, if his faith or obe- 
dience had been made the true or formal ground of his 
acceptance. He might have pleaded his own moral wor- 
thiness as the cause of that distinction which God made 
between him and others ; and it might be said of him 
that lie both sought and obtained righteousness by his 
obedience, or as it were by the works of the law. But 
this is what the Apostle expressly declares to be the 
soul-destroying mistake of the Jews. They wore not so 
blind as to suppose (lint no man could be justified before 

God, but upon the footing of a perfect personal right- 
eousness. Thev knew that, thev were sinners, and 
therefore thev offered the sacrifices of atonement which 

the l;i\\ prescribed. Bui their error was in supposing 

that if thev were in the main strict and zealous in the 

discharge of moral and ceremonial duties, this would 
stand for their righteousness, and that on account of it 



394 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

God would overlook their failures and bestow upon them 
the reward of eternal life. It is to this precise fact that 
the Apostle directs our attention in the closing part of 
the ninth chapter of his epistle to the Romans, and in the 
beginning of the tenth : " What shall we say then ? 
That the Gentiles, which followed not after the law of 
righteousness, have attained to righteousness, even the 
righteousness which is of faith ; but Israel, which fol- 
lowed after the law of righteousness, hath not attained 
to the law of righteousness. Wherefore ? Because 
they sought it not by faith, but as it were by the works 
of the law." Mark the expression : " they sought it 
not by faith, but as it were by the works of the law." 
He does not say by the works of the law simply, as if 
they were striving after a perfect legal righteousness. 
They knew as well as we do, that such a righteousness 
was unattainable. Still they made a righteousness of 
their own works, as thousands do at the present time, 
instead of looking solely to the righteousness of God's 
providing — the righteousness of the Redeemer. " For 
they stumbled," says the Apostle, " at that stumbling 
stone, [meaning Christ,] as it is written : Behold I lay in 
Zion a stumbling stone and a rock of offence, and who- 
soever belie veth on him shall not be ashamed." None 
could be more zealous and painstaking in religion than 
they, but their zeal, says the Apostle, is not according to 
knowledge ; " For they, being ignorant of God's right- 
eousness, and going about to establish their own right- 
eousness, have not submitted themselves unto the right- 
eousness of God." They did not submit themselves to 
God's righteousness by submitting to Christ, and receiv- 
ing him in his mediatorial character, as the end of the 
law for righteousness to every one that believeth. Their 
whole reliance was upon their own good endeavors. 
They knew no other righteousness and sought no 
other. Here they stumbled and fell; and here have fall- 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 395 

en thousands with the Word of Christ in their hands. 
From the self-righteous Pharisee to the man who is now 
doing as well as he can, trusting in God's mercy for the 
rest, the grand error has been to overlook the perfect 
righteousness of the Redeemer, as the only justifying 
righteousness of the sinner. But surely Paul did not 
overlook it, when speaking of God's justifying Abraham 
by faith, in opposition to works ; surely he did not mean 
to teach that though Abraham was not justified by a 
perfect legal righteousness, he was nevertheless justified 
by an imperfect one, as the Jews sought to be ; or, which 
is the same thing, that he was justified " as it were by 
the works of the law." 

I must not longer trespass ou your patience, and there- 
fore I reserve the remainder of this subject for a future 
opportunity. Let me not conclude, however, until I 
have lifted up a warning voice against a spirit of self-right- 
eousness. Make a Christ of nothing but Christ himself. 
There is much danger of doing this. Your faith in him 
must be direct, and your dependence on him exclusive 
and entire. 



LECTURE XvHl. 



ON JUSTIFICATION 



WHAT IS JUSTIFICATION! 

In answering this question on a former occasion, you 
will recollect that I proposed the five following inquiries : 

First. What is implied in our being justified before 
God? 

Second. What is the righteousness on account of which 
God justifies us ? 

Third. What is intended by the imputation of this 
righteousness ? 

Fourth. What is the nature of that faith which is 
concerned in our justification, and how is it concerned ? 

Fifth. And lastly, wherein does it appear that we are 
justified freely by the grace of God ? 

The first two of these inquiries have already been 
considered. In attending to the first, we remarked that 
to justify a man in common life, is to vindicate his inno- 
cence against any imagined or supposed impeachment ; 
but that in judicial proceedings the term has another 
import, and signifies to acquit the accused of the crime 
alleged, and formally to pronounce him just in the eye 
of the law. In neither of these senses did we suppose 
that God justifies the sinner, when he forgives. Surely, 
he does not vindicate the sinner's innocence, nor declare 
him not guilty, when compared with the law. This 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 397 

could not be done consistently with the truth of facts. 
The sinner is a transgressor, or he would not need for- 
giveness ; and it will eternally remain true that he is a 
transgressor ; his desert is as indelible as his being, and 
can no more be destroyed than you can destroy the fact 
of his transgression. It cannot be supposed, therefore, 
that God will declare the sinner righteous, or judge him 
to be so, since he will not declare or judge him to be 
what he is not. Hence, we inferred that Gospel justifi- 
cation is not, in all respects, the same as legal justification, 
though it bears a resemblance to it. It is not pronouncing 
the sinner just in view of the law ; but treating him, in 
two important respects, as if he were — exempting him 
from punishment, and giving him a title to life. In legal 
justification, the law is made the rule of judgment, and 
according to this, sentence is pronounced in favor of 
the accused, and upon the ground of his personal inno- 
cence. 

But in Gospel justification, the case is quite different. 
Here, it is not justifying the righteous whom the law 
approves, but the ungodly whom the law condemns. 
The law, of course, cannot be made the rule of judg- 
ment ; nor is sentence pronounced according to this rule. 
It must not be forgotten, however, that though the sinner 
is not justified by the law, or according to the law, yet 
the law is not overlooked in this case, nor its honor dis- 
regarded. It did not become Jehovah, as the moral 
Governor of the universe, to pardon the sinner and 
restore liini to liivor. until the law had been magnified 
and made honorable, by the meritorious obedience and 
Bufferings of Christ. But this once done, the way ^^aN 
open to grant two important benefits to the believing 
sinner— remission of sin, and life everlasting. Both of 

these are respected in the act of justification; an act, 
which having once passed upon the sinner, is past for- 



398 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 



ever. God does not justify him conditionally, but abso- 
lutely and finally ; for whom he calls them he justifies, 
and whom he justifies them also he glorifies. 

Second. As to the righteousness on account of which 
God justifies us, we attempted to show that it could not 
be our own personal righteousness according to the law : 
first, because we have no such righteousness ; and sec- 
ondly, because this is not the righteousness supposed or 
demanded in the justification of a sinner, the law not 
being the rule of judgment in the case. Nor did we 
allow it to be the righteousness of faith considered as a 
moral virtue, as though faith and the fruits of it held 
under the Gospel the same place as a perfect legal right- 
eousness under the law. Men are exceedingly apt to 
suppose this; and many a self-righteous heart is still 
seeking justification, like the Jews of old, not by a per- 
fect and sinless obedience, but by the merit of its own 
good endeavors, or, as it were, by the works of the law. 
Against this erroneous conception we urged two import- 
ant considerations: first, that the righteousness which 
God regards as the true and proper ground of our justi- 
fication, is declared to be a righteousness without works; 
which could not be true if faith or its fruits were ac- 
cepted as our righteousness, and became the formal 
cause of our justification, since in that case our working, 
though an imperfect working, would still constitute the 
righteousness by which we are justified. But a more 
important reason why faith, as a work, cannot be admit- 
ted to hold the place of a justifying righteousness, we 
stated to be, that the Scriptures speak distinctly of 
another righteousness as occupying this place, and it 
would be absurd to suppose that they speak of two. 
They declare that Christ's righteousness is the merito- 
rious ground of a sinner's acceptance with God. " There- 
fore, as by the offence of one judgment came upon all 
men to condemnation, even so by the righteousness of 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 399 

one the free gift came upon all men to justification of 
life : for as by one man's disobedience many were made 
sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made 
righteous ; that as sin hath reigned unto death, so might 
grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life by 
Jesus Christ our Lord." And hence it is that Christ is 
called "the Lord our righteousness/' and that, in the 
accomplishment of his mediatorial work, he is said " to 
make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in ever- 
lasting righteousness." This righteousness, thus brought 
in, we endeavored to show, was the righteousness of 
Christ as Mediator, including both his sufferings and 
obedience — all that he did or suffered to honor the pre- 
cept and to sustain the penalty of the Divine law ; the 
righteousness so often called the righteousness of God 
in the New Testament, because it is eminently of his 
providing, and of his application in the justification of 
sinners; the righteousness which is without the law, 
being witnessed by the law and the Prophets ; the right- 
eousness which is unto all and upon all them that be- 
lieve, whether they be Jews or Gentiles ; the righteous- 
ness which Paul desired to have when he expressed his 
wish " to be found in Christ, not having his own right- 
eousness which is of the law, but the righteousness 
which is through the faith of Christ, even the righteous- 
ness which is of God by faith." This is a righteousness 
which will avail to the justification of all to whom it is 
imputed, and it is imputed to all who believe. We 
proceed, then, in the 

Third place to inquire, what is intended by the impu- 
tation of this righteousness ! Every one who admits that 

the righteousness of Christ is the meritorious ground of 
our acceptance with God must, to ho consistent, admit 
that it is in some way imputed to us, or reckoned to our 
account. But the question is, how is it imputed, and 
what is the nature of this imputation? We answer: it 



400 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

cannot be so imputed as to become our personal right- 
eousness, and, on the score of justice, entitle us to an 
acquittal from condemnation. For in that case our justi- 
fication would not be an act of grace, but of debt ; but 
all true believers are justified freely by the grace of God 
through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. It can- 
not be so imputed as to become our personal righteous- 
ness, for this farther reason : that there would then be 
no room for justifying the ungodly, but the righteous 
only, contrary to the declaration of the Apostle. Besides, 
the righteousness of one can never be so transferred as 
to become really and truly the righteousness of another. 
Sin and holiness, virtue and vice, are, in the very nature 
of things, personal. I cannot feel to blame for the sin of 
another, unless I am in some way a voluntary partaker 
of his sin ; nor can I feel praiseworthy for the good deed 
of another, unless I am a voluntary partaker of that deed 
by some feeling or action of my own. It is easy to con- 
ceive, however, that I may be involved in the conse- 
quences of another's conduct, whether it be sinful or 
holy. His sin may subject me to heavy calamities, or 
his virtue procure for me many important benefits. Thus 
the transgression of Adam was followed with serious and 
eventful consequences to his posterity, yet his sin is no 
farther their sin, than they have virtually approved of 
his conduct. And thus the righteousness of Christ has 
procured the most important benefits. It avails to the 
believer justification, as fully as if the believer himself 
were righteous. God treats him, indeed, as though he 
were righteous. He exempts him from punishment, and 
grants him an unalienable title to an eternal inheritance. 
He receives, therefore, the same advantages from the 
Redeemer's righteousness as if it were his own, wrought 
by his own sinless obedience to the Divine law; and 
yet that righteousness is not his own in the same sense 
as if he himself had been obedient. He has not the 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 4QJ 

same consciousness of innocence, and he cannot be looked 
upon in the same light by other beings. He is, in his 
own proper character, a sinner, a pardoned sinner, and 
thus it will always appear to himself and to others. We 
say he is a pardoned sinner, but he is pardoned entirely 
on Christ's account. He is a justified sinner, but he is 
justified solely out of respect to Christ's righteousness, 
which is imputed to him, or reckoned to his account. 
But how is it imputed ? In no other way but by giving 
him an interest in it, and making it available to his ac- 
ceptance with God. His interest in this righteousness 
is secured by his believing on Christ, and becoming 
united to him in the most solemn and important of all 
relations. 

The righteousness of Christ is imputed to the believer 
much in the same manner as the worthiness of Joseph 
was imputed to his brethren, when they were kindly 
received by Pharaoh, and had the land of Goshen — the 
best part of Egypt — assigned to them on Joseph's ac- 
count. It was enough for Pharaoh that they were 
Joseph's friends ; and, if I may be indulged with the 
comparison, it is enough for the Father of mercies and 
the Sovereign Judge of the universe, that believers are 
the friends of Jesus. He views them as intimately re- 
lated to his Son— he the elder, and they the younger 
born. Members of his body, of his flesh, and of his 
bones, they are restored to favor, and made heirs of 
an eternal inheritance, through the worthiness of him 
to whom they are related, and who not only stands high 
in the court of heaven, but lias ;i covenant right to plead 
for those who truly repent and believe on his name. 
The imputation of Christ's righteousness to believers, 

therefore, yon will perceive in our judgment consists, 
not in any transfer of righteousness, so that they thereby 
become truly righteous in the eve ol the law, but simply 
26 



402 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 



in treating them as though they were righteous on 
Christ's account ; exempting them from punishment, and 
bestowing on them eternal life. Herein is his right- 
eousness reckoned or imputed to them, since by means 
of it they are treated in various important respects as 
they would have been, had they themselves been right- 
eous. This is imputation, and the whole of it, so far as 
the question before us is concerned. To suppose an 
actual transfer of righteousness, so that the person to 
whom the transfer is made has the same natural right to 
demand acquittal and acceptance as if his own obedience 
were spotless, is not only to destroy the essential proper- 
ties of sin and holiness, by making them mere matters of 
debt and credit, transferable to the account of different 
persons at pleasure, but to introduce endless confusion 
into the whole subject. Suppose, for once, an actual 
transfer of Christ's righteousness to the believer, what 
shall hinder his being in all respects as righteous as 
Christ himself, or as if he had never sinned ? Why, 
then, is he not conscious of this righteousness, and why 
does he not feel the same self-approbation that he would 
do, had he been sinlessly perfect through every waking 
moment of his being ? Why is he tormented with in- 
dwelling sin, and often chastened for its indulgence ? 
Will you say that he is righteous only in his covenant 
head, and this in relation to a justifying, not an inherent, 
righteousness ? Be it so. It is certainly something 
very different from his own personal righteousness, the 
fruit and effect of his obedience, and connected with 
very different circumstances and results. Indeed, could 
such a transfer be supposed, and the righteousness of 
Christ become truly and properly the believer's right- 
eousness, would not the latter be righteous in the eye of 
God and his law ? And might he not demand an ac- 
quittal from condemnation as a matter of justice, not of 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 



403 



mercy ? Where, then, the propriety of confessing sin 
and imploring pardon, unless to forgive the penitent and 
justify the righteous is one and the same thing ? 

Fourth, We take up our fourth inquiry, which relates 
to the nature of that faith which is concerned in our jus- 
tification, and the manner in which it is concerned. 

It is admitted on all hands, except by the Universalists, 
that none are justified but true believers. For though 
Christ's righteousness is, in itself, abundantly sufficient 
to cover the sins of the whole world, it being all that 
was necessary fully to magnify the Divine law, yet it is 
the will of God that it should avail for the pardon and 
salvation of none but those who repent and believe. 
They alone are united to Christ; they only possess a 
spirit which seems to render their pardon and acceptance 
consistent with the honor of the Divine government. To 
suppose that God should extend a pardon to those who 
persisted in acts of unrepented hostility, would be to 
suppose him willing to weaken his own authority and 
encourage the transgression of his law. Nay, if men do 
not, in some good measure, appreciate the methods of his 
grace, if they do not humbly and thankfully receive their 
deliverer in the character and offices in which he is 
revealed, it seems but a natural and just recompense that 
they should be excluded the benefits which he brings, 
and be punished, moreover, for their contempt of God's 
mercy. 

But whatever we may think of the fitness or unfitness 
of such a course, the fact is unquestionable, " lie that be- 
lieveth shall he saved, and he that believeth not shall 

be damned." There is salvation in none other name 
given under heaven among men, but the name of Jesus, 

nor in his Dame unless we believe <>n him, while all that 

do believe shall be justified from all things from which 
they could not be justified by the law of Moses, be it 
moral or ceremonial. 



404 0N JUSTIFICATION. 

But the first question here is, What is that faith, which, 
by the appointment of God is so necessarily concerned 
in our justification ? It is not, I remark, a mere specu- 
lative faith, however firmly rooted or long established. 
Such is the evidence of the Gospel report, that men may 
assent to its truth, while their hearts are unreconciled to 
its doctrines ; and while these doctrines exert no deci- 
sive influence upon their hearts or lives. Such men be- 
lieve, but their faith is dead, or inactive. The faith 
which justifies, is a faith of God's operation, and the fruit 
of the Spirit; a faith which works by love, and which 
brings the heart into a willing and cheerful obedience to 
all the Divine commands. In particular, it may be stated, 
that this faith receives the record which God has given of 
his Son, cordially approves of his character and work, 
and with an eye steadfastly turned towards him as the 
grand medium of mercy to this lost world, humbly trusts 
in his righteousness and blood, as the meritorious ground 
of pardon and acceptance with God. The true believer 
is one who has been thoroughly convinced of his lost and 
ruined state as a sinner ; who has seen and felt the 
justice of God in his condemnation, and who in his very 
heart has been made to subscribe to the excellency of 
God's law, the purity of the precept and the righteous- 
ness of the penalty. He has been made willing that 
God should reign, and has rejoiced to know that he is 
unalterably determined to maintain the honor of his 
government. It has been grateful to him to find that 
God could preserve the rights of his throne, his love of 
holiness and hatred of sin, and yet, through the media- 
tion of his Son, forgive the penitent and believing sinner. 
In this state of mind he has embraced Christ as his 
almighty Saviour and friend, and committed the keeping 
of his soul unto him, desiring nothing so much as to live 
to his glory. Such is a true believer, and such the na- 
ture of that faith which is indispensably concerned in 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 4Q5 

our justification. But how is it concerned ? Not as a 
righteousness, you have already heard, whether in 
whole or in part, on account of which God is pleased to 
pardon and accept us. How then ? Only as the ap- 
pointed means of bringing the soul into such a union 
with Christ, that his righteousness may be imputed to 
us, or improved in our favor. The Scriptures speak 
much of the believer's union with Christ. They repre- 
sent it under various similitudes — as the husband and 
the wife, the vine and the branches, the head and the 
members, the foundation and the building ; and this 
union is strong and indissoluble. It is both a union of 
affection and a union of compact ; nay, I may say it is a 
vital union, the Spirit which was given without measure 
to the head descending abundantly on the members, 
and quickening them all with the same life-giving power. 
Now as faith is the grand instrument of forming this 
union, on our part, and the influence of the Spirit, which 
works faith in us, the chief mean on his, there seems a 
propriety in considering faith as that which in a peculiar 
manner unites the soul to the Redeemer, and conse- 
quently that which gives us an interest in his righteous- 
ness ; and hence it is that we are said to be justified by 
faith, and by the faith of Christ; because it is by faith 
that we are thus united to him, and his righteousness 
reckoned to our account. 

Two things are certain from the Bible: that they who 
are justified stand in a peculiar relation to Christ, as his 
children, his disciples, his friends, nay, as ihe members 

of his body, his flesh and his hones: and thai it is faith, 
the root and source of all other graces, that brings them 
into or constitutes this relation. This relation supposed, 

justification follows, not ;is mi net of justice due to the 
Subject of it, but B8 an net of rich and unmerited grace; 

which brings me in b tew words to inquire, in the 



406 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 



Fifth and last place, wherein it appears that we are 
justified freely by the grace of God. 

By the grace of God, we mean his free and unmerited 
favor — that which flows from his sovereign goodness, and 
which he can give or withhold as he pleases, without 
trespassing upon the rights of those who are concerned. 
In this sense, the entire scheme and work of our salva- 
tion is a matter of grace. God was under no obligation 
to provide a Saviour for this lost worlds He might in 
justice have passed them by, as he did the rebel angels ; 
and when a Saviour was provided, it was a matter of 
mere grace that he determined to make this provision 
in regard to any effectual. He might, so far as justice 
is concerned, if he had pleased, have left all to reject 
this salvation which the Gospel proposes — I mean all to 
whom the Gospel comes — and to sink to a deeper hell 
for their contempt of his offered mercy. That they are 
made willing in the day of his power, is a matter of mere 
grace. All are alike disposed to reject the provisions 
of the Gospel, and all would reject them if God did not 
interpose by taking away the heart of stone and giving 
an heart of flesh. But as in all these steps, so necessary 
to our justification, there is grace, so it is with justifica- 
tion itself. It is an act in the highest degree gratuitous, 
God forgiving freely those whom, on the ground of just- 
ice, he might eternally punish. Christ, indeed, has died 
the just for the unjust, and by his death an all-sufficient 
atonement has been made ; but this infers no obligation 
on the part of God to forgive sin, antecedent to the con- 
sideration of his promise in the covenant of redemption. 
There was no such value or merit in the work of Christ 
even as to bring the eternal Father into debt, or bind 
him on the score of justice to dispense pardon to any of 
the human family. From the absolute infinitude of his 
nature he can receive nothing from others, not even from 
his own dear Son, and of course can be brought under 



ON JUSTIFICATION. 4Q7 

obligation to none except by his own vouchsafement. 
" For who hath first given to him, and it shall be recom- 
pensed unto him again ; for of him, and through and to 
him, are all things." To his Son he promised, as a re- 
ward for his labors and sufferings, that he should see 
of the travail of his soul and be satisfied; and to all 
true penitents he gives joyful assurance that he will pass 
by their transgressions and restore them to his everlasting 
friendship. But this is all a matter of grace — grace in 
the provision for these favors, and grace in their actual 
bestowment ; and hence justification itself, no less than 
the gift of a Saviour, is by the Apostle regarded as an 
act of God's free grace. " Being justified freely by his 
grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." 
How great this grace is, in the present world we shall 
never be able fully to comprehend ; but enough may be 
seen of it, when thoughtfully and prayerfully considered, 
to awaken the deepest gratitude, and to call forth the 
song of thanksgiving and praise. 



LECTUBE XIX. 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH 



James i. 5, 6, 7. — " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God that giveth 
to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him ; but let him ask 
in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven 
with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive any- 
thing of the Lord." 

This is one of the many promises made to prayer ; 
and, if properly understood, would teach us both how to 
pray and what to expect from the performance of this 
duty. It places distinctly before us not only the indis- 
pensable obligation but the peculiar importance of prayer. 
" If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth 
to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and it shall be 
given him." But if God will give wisdom to him that 
asks — and that because he is liberal and upbraideth not 
— no reason can be assigned why he should not give 
other needed blessings to those who duly solicit them. 
In this passage we are taught, also, the manner in which 
prayer should be offered, to make it acceptable and avail- 
ing : " Let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he 
that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the 
wind and tossed. For let not that man think he shall 
receive anything of the Lord." It is not every kind of 
prayer which is prevalent, but the prayer of faith only. 
The doubting or wavering man has no reason to expect 
anything from the Lord. If he receive it at all, it must 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 



409 



be in a way of mere sovereignty, and not according to 
promise ; for none of his prayers possess the character to 
which the promise of acceptance is made. 

But to place this whole subject more distinctly be- 
fore you, I shall direct your attention to the following 
inquiries : 

First. What is the great end or design of prayer ? 

Second. Wherein does the importance of this duty ap- 
pear ? 

Third. What are some of the characteristics of an 
acceptable prayer ? 

Fourth. What is to be understood by the prayer of faith, 
and how far has God bound himself to hear and answer 
such prayer ? 

First. What is the great end or design of prayer ? 

1st. It is not, most surely, to inform the Most High 
of our situation or our wants. He surrounds us — He 
pervades us — He knows our up-rising and down-sitting, 
and understand eth our thoughts afar off, and before they 
are formed within us. All that we have, all that we 
are, is naked and open to him, and has been so from 
eternity. It is not, therefore, to inform Him that we 
pray. 

2d. Nor is it to excite Him to greater degrees of pity 
or benevolence, or to render our own case or the case of 
others more interesting to him than before. He is infi- 
nitely kind and benevolent always, and beholds the 
wants of liis creatures with the same invariable com- 
passion from everlasting to everlasting. The Immuta- 
bility of his character and attributes necessarily implies 
this. 

3d. Nor, in the third place, is it the design of prayer 
to effect any change in the purposes of God. This 
would he impossible, since be is of one mind, and who 
can torn him I \\ hat his soul desire! li, that he doeth 

in heaven above and in earth beneath; And why should 



4X0 0N THE PLAYER OF FAITH. 

he not ? His purposes are all infinitely wise and infi- 
nitely good, formed in view of the whole system of 
things, and of every possible event. They could not 
change but for the worse. But let no one infer from this 
that prayer is vain. Though it cannot change or per- 
suade God, it may accomplish very important ends in 
relation to ourselves. 

1. It may have, and is designed to have, a beneficial 
influence in preparing us for the mercies we implore. It 
gives us a deeper sense of our dependence on God — a bene- 
fit of no inconsiderable moment to creatures liable, as 
we are, to forget that dependence. It promotes humility, 
by bringing us to the foot of God's throne, where we 
can scarcely fail to contrast our littleness and vileness 
with his infinite greatness, purity and glory. It engages 
us to put our trust in God for all that we need, as well 
as to thank him for all that we receive. 

2. It is designed, also, as an act of homage to our 
Creator — of homage due to his infinitely glorious attri- 
butes, from creatures capable of perceiving them, and 
who, at the same time, are the daily recipients of his 
bounty. Prayer, in this view of it, is God's right, as 
well as our duty ; and would it not be strange to say 
that the more perfect this right, the less are we obliged 
to regard it ? But what else do they say, who refuse 
to pray, on the ground that God is so great and so good 
as to make prayer unnecessary ? 

3. Prayer, moreover, is designed as a mean of obtain- 
ing good, and of warding off evil. There is no reason 
to doubt that God, in the plans of his providence, may 
have connected important blessings with our prayers, 
just as in other instances he connects the end with the 
means. He may have determined that certain blessings 
shall be received only in answer to prayer, and all in 
accordance with his unchangeable purposes and designs. 
Prayer, in such cases, does not move God to alter his 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 4U 

purposes, though it may be said that in view of prayer, 
prayer of a certain character, and flowing from the lips 
of certain individuals, and on certain occasions, his pur- 
poses from eternity were formed. There is no other and 
no greater difficulty in this case, than in any other where 
the means and the end are conjoined, whether in the 
determination of the Divine counsels or in the order of 
Providence. And if any man will say, because God is 
fixed or unchangeable in his purpose, I will not pray — 
prayer can make no difference in my allotments, either 
here or hereafter — might he not with equal propriety 
add, neither will I work, nor eat, nor use any means 
whatsoever to prolong my days ? for here also the Divine 
purpose is fixed, and the result, for aught he knows, as 
much connected with his own agency in the one case as 
in the other. 

It is enough for us to be assured that God has estab- 
lished a connection between asking and receiving — a con- 
nection more or less certain, acccording to circumstances, 
but of sufficient moment to awaken our hopes, and to 
become a powerful stimulus to prayer. All the promises 
made to prayer imply this, as do also the many instances 
in which God has heard the cries of his people. 

Second. Our second inquiry is, wherein does the great 
importance of prayer appear ? 

We shall do little more here, than name some of the 
principal articles which may be regarded as an answer to 
tin's inquiry. 

1st. We mention, first of nil, the fad (lint God is styled, 
in his Word, n prayer-hearing God. " thou that hearest 
prayer" is the language of David, when moved by the 
Holy Ghost. This is God's oame, and his memorial to 
all generations; and if carries with it a powerful argu- 
ment for addressing his throne. It is virtually proclaim- 
ing to us that he is upon b throne of mercy — a throne 

accessible to us a( all times, where we may bring OUT 



412 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

sins, our troubles, and our wants, with the joyful assu- 
rance that he will not turn away his ear from our prayer. 
Prayer is not then a useless, hut an important duty. 

2d. But this truth is more distinctly announced in the 
repeated commands given us to pray. It is not left us 
to consider prayer as a mere privilege, which we may 
neglect or use at our pleasure. God has enjoined it in a 
great variety of forms, and thereby intimated that it is 
a duty well-pleasing to him, and of deep importance to 
ourselves. We are commanded to pray always, to pray 
without fainting, to pray with all prayer and supplication 
in the Spirit, watching thereunto with all perseverance 
and supplication for all saints. We are commanded to 
pray in our closets, in our domestic circles, in our public 
assemblies, everywhere lifting up holy hands without 
wrath and doubting, and for all men. Prayer must then 
be a duty of imperative obligation, and of the highest 
moment to ourselves and to others. 

3d. The same conclusion follows most obviously from 
the promises which God has made to prayer. Many of 
these are upon record, and though somewhat diversified 
as to character, they all go to establish an important 
connection between asking and receiving the blessings 
we desire. " The Lord will hear when I call upon him ; 
he will fulfill the desire of them that hear him ; he will 
also hear their cry. He hath not said to the seed of 
Jacob, seek ye me in vain. Before they call I will an- 
swer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear. Ask 
and ye shall receive ; seek and ye shall find ; knock and 
it shall be opened unto you. Ask and receive, that your 
joy may be full." This is the current language of the 
Bible. How strict the connection is between asking 
and receiving, or under what circumstances God has 
pledged himself to hear and answer the prayers of his 
people, it is not my intention in this place to inquire. It 
is sufficient to have it understood that a connection exists, 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 



413 



of more or less strictness ; for this fully establishes the 
importance of prayer. 

4th. We shall be still more impressed with this truth 
if we consider a moment what prayer has actually done. 

The prayers of Abraham were effectual in removing 
Divine judgments, and in procuring important blessings 
for himself and for his children ; and if there had been 
ten righteous men in Sodom, his prayers would have 
saved that guilty city. 

The prayers of Moses suspended the plagues of Egypt 
and saved Israel at the borders of the Red Sea ; and 
often did his prayers avert Divine judgments from this 
guilty people, while in the wilderness and on their jour- 
ney to the promised land. Behold him interceding for 
them when they made and worshiped the molten calf, 
and when they rebelled at the return of the spies. 
Never was the prayer of mortal more disinterested or 
more ardent ; and never, perhaps, did God answer in a 
manner more gracious and condescending. " I have 
heard thee," says God, " and pardoned the people ac- 
cording to thy word," (Ex. 32 : Num. 19.) I might re- 
fer you to the prayers of Joshua, of Gideon, of Barak, 
Samson, David and others, which were graciously ac- 
cepted and answered. Often has God heard his people 
in the very thing which they asked. " Elijah prayed, 
and it rained not for the space of three years and six 
months; he prayed again, and the heavens gave rain." 
The prayers of Elislia proved a surer defence to Israel, 
than thousands of chariots and horsemen. And what 
shall we say of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Daniel — all of whom had 
power with God, and prevailed I Their cries entered 
into the ears of the God of Sabaoth, and were honored 

with signal interpositions of the Divine mercy. Prayer 

saved the Jews from the murderous sword of Hainan, in 
the days of Esther and Mordecai ; /jfai/tr rescued Peter 
from prison, when his life was in danger from the blood- 



414 0N THE PRAYER 0F FAITH. 

thirsty Herod ; and prayer released Paul and Silas from 
their chains, and from a dungeon at Philippi ; and was 
it not in answer to prayer, that the Holy Ghost de- 
scended on multitudes on the day of Pentecost, and so 
many thousands were turned to the Lord ? The efficacy 
of prayer demonstrates the importance of prayer. But 
another circumstance which shows the high importance 
of this duty is, 

5th. God often suspends his favors upon the condition 
of our asking for them, and asking in a suitable manner. 
Thus God says to Ezekiel : " For this will I be inquired 
of by the house of Israel, to do it for them." He had 
spoken of bringing them back from the Babylonish cap- 
tivity, and resettling them in their native land ; of giv- 
ing them a new heart and a new spirit ; but this he 
would not do, but in answer to prayer ; and, therefore, 
in another place he declares : " Then shall ye find me, 
when ye shall seek for me with all your heart, and with 
all your soul ;" implying that they would not find him 
until they sought him in this manner. Much the same 
thing is taught in God's answer to Solomon at the dedi- 
cation of the temple, and which may be regarded as a 
general rule, at least, of his dealings towards that nation. 
" If I shut up heaven, that there be no rain, or if I com- 
mand the locusts to devour the land, or if I send pesti- 
lence among my people ; if my people, which are called 
by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and 
seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then 
will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and 
will heal their land ;" which implies that if they would 
not thus humble themselves under Divine judgments, 
and pray, and make supplication, they had no reason to 
expect that their calamities would be removed. But 
the Apostle appears forever to settle this subject, when 
he says in direct terms : " Ye have not, because ye ask 
not; ye ask and receive not, because ye ask amiss;" im- 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 415 

plying that the blessing is often withheld for want of 
prayer, and for want of prayer of the right kind. We 
would not assert that this is always the case, or, which 
is the same thing, that God never dispenses his favor to 
individuals, hut through the instrumentality of prayer. 
He is a Sovereign, and may do what he has promised to 
do — he may turn aside from the ordinary course of his 
providence, and magnify the riches of his mercy con- 
trary to our expectations and hopes. We must not 
limit Mm, where he has not limited himself. Still, if it 
be a fact, that he often suspends the blessing upon our 
asking for it, and our asking for it aright, what an 
argument is this for sincere, humble, and importunate 
prayer ! 

6th. I mention but one consideration more to illustrate 
the necessity and importance of this duty, and that is 
the example of Christ. Christ not only prayed often 
with his disciples, but he prayed alone, offering up strong 
crying and tears unto Him that was able to save. With 
him there was no negligence nor weariness in this duty. 
He rose up sometimes early in the morning, before the 
day dawned, that he might give himself to prayer; while 
on other occasions he spent the whole night in this duty. 
But what did he pray for ? He had no sins to pardon, 
no heart to cleanse. No ! but he had Satan and a ma- 
lignant world to withstand, many labors to perform, and 
much suffering to endure; and ii was one of the circum- 
stances of his humiliation, that he who was naturally 
and originally possessed of all power should he in a 
condition to ask and receive aid lroin on high. But we 

are not to suppose his prayers terminated chiefly on 
himself. His benevolent heart must have often looked 

abroad, and sent, up many a fervent cry tor enemies as 
well as friends, lie who was disposed to say on his 
CrOSS, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what 

they do," cannot he suspected of having overlooked 



415 ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

them on other occasions, especially when it is recollected 
how much he constantly labored for their good. So 
great an example as this cannot fail to impress us with 
the fact that prayer is a duty reasonable in itself, and of 
the deepest moment both to ourselves and to others. 

Third. Shall we inquire, in the third place, what are 
some of the characteristics of an acceptable prayer ? If 
the duty be important, we ought to know when it is so 
discharged as to secure the approbation of Him to whom 
it is directed. 

1st. I name as one circumstance of acceptable prayer, 
that it must be the prayer of a righteous man — in other 
words, of a true Christian. It does not seem possible 
that God should accept the prayer of the wicked, as it 
cannot flow from a right spirit. Besides, we are ex- 
pressly told that "the sacrifice of the wicked is an 
abomination to the Lord, while the prayer of the upright 
is his delight." We will not say that God never hears 
the wicked, as he hears the young ravens when they 
cry. As a compassionate Being, he may so far regard 
their supplications as to deliver them out of their troubles. 
This is what the Psalmist intimates, when he celebrates 
the goodness of God towards " those who go down into 
the sea in ships, and do business in the great waters. 
They see the wonders of the Lord in the deep. For he 
commandeth the stormy wind and lifteth up the waves 
thereof. They mount up to heaven ; they go down again 
to the depths; their soul is melted because of trouble. 
Then they cry unto the Lord, and he bringeth them out 
of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that 
the waves thereof are still." 

This is a wonderful expression of God's mercy, but no 
proof that he accepts the prayers of those whom he thus 
delivers from a w^atery grave. God is holy, and it would 
be inconsistent with this attribute to approve or accept 
of an act in his creatures which had in it no degree of 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 417 

moral worth. He may have compassion on a sinner, and 
deliver him from trouble when he cries ; hut he cannot 
behold his character or his works with approbation. 
This has always been a stumbling-stone to many, and 
not unfrequently furnished the ungodly with an excuse 
to withhold prayer altogether. The truth, however, 
must not be concealed, whatever abuses may be made 
of it. God hath said, " He that turns away his ear from 
hearing the law, even his prayer shall become sin." 
And David confesses, "If I regard iniquity in my heart, 
the Lord will not hear me." And will he hear others 
who regard iniquity in their hearts, and whose prevalent 
disposition is opposition to God and his law ? The 
prayers of such persons, as well as all their other acts, 
are destitute of love to God and love to man, and cannot 
be accepted in the sight of Him who looks to the very 
springs of action, and who condemns whatever is not 
accordant with his law. It appears, therefore, to be a 
primary requisite of every acceptable prayer, that it 
should flow from the heart or lips of a righteous man. 

2d. But secondly, it must be sincere, expressing an un- 
equivocal desire for the object prayed for. It must in 
truth be the language of the heart — not of the under- 
standing or conscience simply. Too many of the prayers, 
even of God's people, we have reason to believe, are 
deplorably wanting in sincerity. They ask, because 
they know they must ask, and not because they truly 
desire. But this is only to play the hypocrite before 
God, and cannot, most certainly, secure his approbation. 

He require! truth in the inward parts. But we remark, 
3d. That prayer, to be acceptable and prevalent with 

God, must be <fir/i<st as well as snirtrr. No man can 
doubt thai this is an important characteristic of the duty. 

when rightly performed. We find it entering very deep- 
ly into many of the prayers recorded in holy writ, and 
powerfully recommended by Christ himself. How fer- 

27 



418 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

vent were the prayers of Abraham, when he pleaded in 
behalf of Sodom, and when he made supplication for 
Ishmael ! How did Jacob wrestle with the angel, when 
he interceded for the life of the mother and the chil- 
dren ! He saw them exposed, as he apprehended, to 
the destroying sword of Esau, who was coming out to 
meet him with four hundred armed men, and he said to 
the angel, the great angel of the covenant, " I will not 
let thee go except thou bless me." Read the prayers of 
Moses, of David, Daniel, Nehemiah and Ezra : with 
what ardor do they pour out their supplications before 
God ! With feelings excited and elevated, they take 
hold of his strength, and plead with an earnestness which 
shows the fullness of their expectation and desire. And 
Christ, in the parable of the importunate widow, and of 
the man who went to borrow three loaves of his friend at 
midnight, has very distinctly inculcated the necessity, 
not of sincerity only, but of earnestness in our supplica- 
tions. Nay, he has expressly assured us that such earn- 
estness is both acceptable and available with God. It 
is the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man, St. 
James tells us, that availeth much ; implying that little 
is to be hoped at any time from our prayers, unless they 
rise to a holy importunity. 

4th. Let me remark, however, in the fourth place, 
that though importunate, they should not be dictatorial 
or presumptuous. On the contrary, they should ever be 
marked by the deepest humility. This is an important 
requisite of every acceptable prayer. It is to the great 
God that we pray, the dread Majesty of the universe, 
before whom all nations are as the drop of the bucket, 
and as the small dust of the balance : it is to him in 
whose sight the heavens are not clean, and before whom 
cherubim and seraphim veil their faces. What are we, 
that we should speak to this great and glorious Being ! 
One would think that we should shrink into the very 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 4|9 

dust at the thought. Surely it becomes us to approach 
him with the profoundest reverence and humility, laying 
ourselves at his feet under a deep conviction of the aw- 
ful distance between him and us. This was the temper 
of Abraham when he drew near to God in the plains of 
Mamre. We hardly know which to admire most, the 
humility of his address, or the persevering ardor with 
which it was urged : " Behold, now, I have taken it upon 
me to speak unto the Lord :" as if it was a great thing 
— a privilege, of which he felt himself wholly unwor- 
thy. And again : " O let not the Lord be angry, and I 
will speak but this once." Such also was the temper of 
the publican, who stood " afar off" from the mercy-seat, 
and " who dare not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven, 
but smote upon his breast, and cried, God be merciful to 
me a sinner." And this is the temper, in a greater or 
less degree, of all acceptable worshipers. Their cry is 
the cry of the humble ; and of them God hath said that 
he will not despise their prayer. His promise is, that he 
will be nigh unto all such as are of a broken heart, and 
that he will save such as be of a contrite spirit. With- 
out some portion of this spirit transfused into our prayers, 
it is impossible they should find acceptance with God : 
while they who have most of it will stand highest in the 
Divine favor, and secure the richest answer to their 
prayers. The Lord loves to fill the empty vessel — to 
raise the poor up out of the dust — to feed the hungry, 
starving soul, while the rich he sends empty away. 

5th. I add, as a further characteristic of acceptable 
prayer, that it must proceed from right motives. No- 
thing is more common than t<> ask tor lawful objects 
from improper motives. " Ye ask and receive not," says 
the Apostle, " because ye ask amiss, (hat ye may con- 
sume it upon your lusts/' The object might have been 
right, but the motive was wrong. Something earthly or 
selfish gave birth to theirprayers. Perhaps they desired 



420 0N THE PLAYER OF FAITH. 

the gift of miracles, that they might benefit their friends, 
or raise their own credit in the world. Perhaps they 
desired to be saved from the violence of persecution, not 
that they might serve God with less distraction or extend 
farther the borders of the Redeemer's kingdom, but that 
they might be more at ease in their callings, and sink 
more quietly into the enjoyments of the present life. 
Perhaps they were divided into parties, and wished some 
advantage over their respective opponents. But what- 
ever was the object, the motive was wrong. God's glory 
was not their end — nor their own best good — nor that 
of others. Whether it were temporal or spiritual bles- 
sings which they sought, some earth-born motive lurked 
beneath, and therefore their prayers were unavailing ; 
as ours also will be, when the motive is such as the all- 
searching eye of God cannot approve. Then only will our 
prayers enter into his ears, when they flow from a heart 
deeply imbued with the spirit of the Gospel ; when his 
glory is uppermost with us, and the highest good of his 
kingdom. In such a state of mind, we shall ask for 
right things in a right manner ; and God, the unerring 
judge of our hearts, will accept the service and pro- 
nounce his blessing. 

6th. Finally, I might say, with the Apostle in our text, 
that we should ask in faith, nothing wavering ; for faith, 
no doubt, is an essential ingredient in every acceptable 
prayer. 

But as I propose to make this a matter of somewhat 
extended discussion, I shall defer it till I take up the 
fourth general inquiry, viz. : " What is to be understood 
by the prayer of faith, and how far has God bound him- 
self to hear and answer such prayer ?" In the mean 
time, we shall conclude this lecture by remarking that 
much of the Christian character is developed in the 
article of prayer. " He that prays much," said the good 
Fenelon, " loves much, and he that prays little loves 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 421 

little." A prayerless Christian is a contradiction in 
terms ; while he that prays not from a right spirit, how 
much soever he may abound in the duty, falls short of 
the Christian character. I know of no criterion more 
decisive of the reality and the measure of a man's piety, 
than his prayers. Just so much as he has of the spirit 
of true devotion, just so much and no more has he of the 
love of God and the love of man in his heart, and just 
so much of reverence for God, of faith in God, and every 
other Christian grace. Tell me how much he prays, 
with what sincerity, with what ardor, with what watch- 
fulness, confidence and perseverance, and for what ob- 
jects, and I can tell you how much he loves and fears 
God ; how much he loves his neighbor ; what is his humil- 
ity, his spirituality, and his deadness to the world ; what 
his self-denial, his patience, meekness and fidelity in the 
cause of his Master. All these virtues are but the modi- 
fications of holy love ; and the strength of this is mea- 
sured by the spirit of his devotions. 

Judging then by this rule, how much religion have 
we ? What is the character of our prayers ? Let every 
one who is in the habit of praying, and praying in secret, 
answer this question for himself. If he can find what 
moves him in this duty, and especially what is the pre- 
ponderating motive, he will find the master-spring of his 
soul, that which settles his character in God's sight ; and 
which, remaining as it is, will settle it in the day of final 
retribution. He may know both whether his piety be 
real, and whether it be in a declining or progressive state. 
I commend this subject, my young brethren, most earn- 
estly to your attention. Soon you will be called to leave 
this sacred retreat, and to enter apon the work of the 
Gospel ministry— a work full of labor, full of difficulty, full 
of Belf-denial. Much will you need diligence, and foftir 
tude, and patience, and resignation to the Divine will ; but 
above all will you need the spirit of grace and supplication. 



422 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

If you would be saved from worldliness, from pride, from 
sloth, and from whatever would dishonor Christ, or 
hinder the success of your labors, and if you would be 
eminently holy, or eminently useful, cultivate a spirit of 
prayer. Let this be an object with you now in all your 
preparations for the ministry ; and when you shall enter 
upon this sacred office, do not forget, I entreat you, that 
prayer— fervent and believing prayer — is among the mighti- 
est weapons of your spiritual warfare. 



LECTURE XX 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH 



James i. 5, 6, 7. — " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God that giveth 
to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him ; but let him ask 
in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven 
with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive any- 
thing of the Lord." 

In remarking upon these words in a former Lecture, 
we proposed the following inquiries : 

First. What is the great end or design of prayer ? 

Second. Wherein does the importance of this duty 
appear ? 

Third. What are some of the characteristics of accept- 
able prayer ? and 

Fourth. What is to be understood by the prayer of 
faith, and how far has God bound himself to hear such 
prayer ? 

The first three inquiries have already been considered. 
We proceed now to the fourth, and ask 

What is to be understood by the prayer of faith? 

This expression seems obviously capable of two senses, 
and must be understood differently, according to the 
different kinds of faith employed in prayer. In the 
primitive Church there is reason to believe 4 that two 
kinds of faith were employed: one extraordinary, being 
peculiar to certain individuals, who had the gift of work- 



424 0N THE PRA YER OF FAITH. 

ing miracles ; the other common, belonging to all Christians 
who truly embraced the Gospel. Both were the result 
of Divine teaching, though perhaps in a different way ; 
and both were founded upon the testimony of God : still 
they were in various respects different from each other. 
The first, which we denominate extraordinary, and 
which was connected with miraculous operations, was 
not necessarily, it would seem, a gracious exercise. 
Certain it is, that many wrought miracles, and miracles 
in Christ's name, who will be disowned by him at last. 
Whether they wrought them with or without faith, is not 
expressly said ; but as they wrought them in Christ's 
name, there is a fair presumption that it was through 
faith in that name. And this presumption is the stronger 
when we consider the language which the Apostle holds 
on the subject of miraculous gifts in general (1 Cor. xiii.) 
" Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, 
and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or 
a tinkling cymbal ; and though I have the gift of pro- 
phecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge ; 
and though / have all faith, so as to remove mountains, 
and have not charity, I am nothing." Here it is sup- 
posed not only that men might work miracles without 
being Christians, but that they might work them in the 
exercise of faith in the Divine power and veracity : nay, 
that they might possess all faith, so as to remove moun- 
tains, or the highest degree of faith connected with mira- 
cles, and yet be destitute of charity or love. Not so the 
faith common to all true believers. This, in all cases, is 
a gracious or holy exercise. Love is essential to its very 
being. It not only gives credence to the Divine testi- 
mony, in whatever manner exhibited, but cordially ap- 
proves of that testimony. It is not merely an intellectual 
but a moral exercise ; and hence it is described as puri- 
fying the heart and overcoming the world. The faith 
of miracles might exist without a renovated heart ; but 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 425 

this never exists except in those who are born of God 
and love God, and therefore it is placed among the fruits 
of the Spirit, and regarded as the grand condition of 
salvation. " Circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision 
is nothing," saith the Apostle, " but faith which worketh 
by love." 

It is not to our present purpose minutely to distinguish 
between these two kinds of faith, nor to inquire how 
often it is probable they were blended together in the 
same persons. It will be enough to have it distinctly 
understood that they were, in some important particu- 
lars, diverse from each other; and therefore that we 
cannot reason from one to the other as if they were 
radically and essentially the same. 

What has been denominated the faith of miracles, be- 
cause peculiar to those who wrought miracles, and neces- 
sary to such extraordinary displays of the Divine power, 
seems to have been not only a firm persuasion of the 
Divine power, by which all things possible are alike 
easy to God, but that the contemplated miracle, in any 
given case, would certainly be performed. This, it will be 
perceived, was more than simply believing that it was 
the pleasure of God that miracles should be wrought, in 
greater or less numbers, in the name of his Son, and on 
fit occasions, and in answer to prayer, and for important 
purposes, and by the hands of those to whom the gift of 
working miracles was imparted : for all these things 
might be believed, and firmly believed, without reaching 
the point that a particular miracle, in a particular case, 
would be wrought. Now w bat we believe and maintain 
is, that the faith of miracles, whatever else it included, 
always involved a belief that the very miracle contem- 
plated, in any given case, would he accomplished. It 
did not stop with the fact that God was able to accom- 
plish it, or that he had promised to accomplish it on any 
supposed conditions, or that lie was a God of truth, and 



426 0N THE P RA YER OF FAITH. 

would not fail to redeem his pledge, but it went to the 
precise and definite fact that the miracle contemplated 
would be performed. How this point was reached will 
be an after consideration ; but that the faith in question 
did most certainly reach it, we think is evident from the 
manner in which Christ describes this faith in the eleventh 
of Mark. When his disciples expressed their surprise at 
seeing the fig-tree withered away, which he had cursed 
for its barrenness the day before, he says to them, " Have 
faith in God : for verily I say unto you, that whosoever 
shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be 
thou cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, 
but shall believe that those things which he saith, shall 
come to pass, he shall have whatsoever he saith." Words 
could scarcely be framed which should mark with more 
precision the fact that faith, in this case, was to believe 
that the miraculous events in question would certainly 
take place. Such a faith he describes both negatively 
and positively. " Whosoever shall say to this mountain, 
Be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea, and 
shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe" Believe what ? 
Why, that those things which he saith, shall come to pass — 
in other words, that the predicted miracle should be 
performed, by the mountain's being removed and cast 
into the sea. Doubtless such a faith implied an unshaken 
belief in God's power, by which the miracle was to be 
accomplished ; but is it not certain that it implied more ? 
a belief that it was God's will or pleasure that the miracle 
predicted should take place ? Keeping in view this kind 
of faith, and the miraculous events with which it stood 
connected, our Lord adds, in the very next verse : 
" Therefore I say unto you, whatsoever things ye desire, 
when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have 
them" " Believe that ye receive them " is a description 
equally precise and definite with that which he had given 
in the preceding verse, and obviously implies a belief tlmt 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 427 

the things desired and asked in prayer would certainly 
be received. Nor can it be well questioned that the " all 
things whatsoever " had an immediate and exclusive refer- 
ence to the subject in hand, or to miraculous operations. 

That a persuasion of the certainty of the event, or the 
miracle to be performed, was essential to this peculiar and 
extraordinary kind of faith, is manifest not only from these 
words of Christ, but from the fact that those who wrought 
miracles often intimated such a persuasion before the 
miracle was performed. They commonly, if not univer- 
sally, prefaced these operations by some declaration of 
what they intended and expected to do, and thereby 
virtually predicted what was immediately to follow. 
Thus Peter, when he healed the lame man at the Beau- 
tiful gate of the temple, said to him : " Silver and gold 
have I none, but such as I have give I thee/' (implying 
that he was going to do something,) " in the name of 
Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk." And when 
he cured Eneas, who for eight years had lain sick of the 
palsy, he said to him : " Eneas, Jesus Christ maketh thee 
whole," or is about so to do, " arise and make thy bed ; 
and he arose immediately." It is perfectly obvious in 
both cases, that the Apostle had the intention and expec- 
tation of working a miracle antecedent to its being 
wrought ; and if the miracle had not followed, all must 
admit that the Apostle would have been disappointed ; 
or, which is the same thing, that the event did not fall 
out according to his expectation and belief. 

Another fact, which shows that a persuasion of the 
certainty of the miracle was essential to the faith by 
which it was wrought, is, that those gifted with the 
power of working miracles did not always attempt to 
display that power; or, if they did, they failed through 
unbelief. Paul, it is said, left Trophimus at Miletum 
sick; which cannot be accounted for but upon one of 
two suppositions, either that he did not attempt to heal 



428 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

him, or attempted and failed. Whichever be true, it is 
certain he had no well-grounded persuasion that the 
thing would be done, otherwise it would have been 
done, God having bound himself to accomplish whatever 
his people, upon good and sufficient grounds, firmly be- 
lieve. We say good and sufficient grounds, for neither 
the faith of miracles, nor any other kind of faith, ought 
to be considered as an unfounded conjecture — a mere 
persuasion, without cause or reason. On the contrary, 
this faith, whenever it existed, was a firm and rational 
persuasion that the Divine power would interpose for a 
particular purpose. But if rational, it must be built on 
evidence ; on evidence not only that the power of work- 
ing miracles was imparted to men, to be employed on 
certain fit occasions, and for high and glorious purposes, 
but that it was the pleasure and purpose of God that a 
miracle of a particular kind should be wrought at the 
time and in the circumstances contemplated. This was 
an important fact to be believed, for nothing short of this 
would secure a belief in the certainty of the event, an es- 
sential characteristic of the faith of miracles. But it may 
be asked, how could it be known that it was the plea- 
sure and purpose of God that a miracle should be wrought 
in any given case ? Whether this question can be an- 
swered or not, let it be remembered that this fact of the 
Divine purpose must have been known, or no sure 
ground for the certainty of the event could have existed. 
Our reply, however, is, that the purpose of God in the 
case might have beeen known by the immediate sugges- 
tions of the Holy Spirit. Nor is there any inherent im- 
probability in the supposition that those who wrought 
miracles by the power of the Holy Ghost, should receive 
intimations from him when and where these mighty 
works were to be performed. Did he preside over their 
thoughts and over their words whenever they opened 
their lips on the subject of their heavenly message, and 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 429 

can it be thought unreasonable or incredible that he 
should point out to them the fit occasions for those works 
by which their message was to be confirmed ? Without 
some supernatural intimation of this kind, it does not 
seem possible that any firm persuasion of the miraculous 
event could exist. For, can men believe without evi- 
dence ? or could evidence be derived from any other 
quarter, as to the future occurrence of a miracle ? But 
allow the intimation we have supposed, from that ever- 
present Spirit who was given to the primitive disciples 
in his miraculous teaching and guidance, and all diffi- 
culty vanishes. What would otherwise appear a weak- 
ness or absurdity, becomes a plain and obvious duty. 
And thus the faith of miracles will have something to 
rest upon, as it is nothing else but giving credit to the 
Divine testimony. It involves the belief that a miracle 
will be performed in a given case, how strange soever 
the miracle may be, agreeably to the suggestions of that 
Divine Spirit by whose agency it is to be accomplished. 
Now, with regard to prayers which were offered in 
the exercise of this faith, we say, once for all, that there 
can be no doubt that the very thing which was asked 
was always granted, because this is agreeable to the im- 
port of the promise made in the case ; and because the 
very nature of the faith thus exercised, presupposed the 
known purpose of God in regard to the event. It was 
thus that " Elijah prayed, and it rained not for the space 
of three years and six months : lie prayed again, and the 
heavens gave rain." But can it be supposed, that he 
made this prayer without a special intimation from the 
Divine Spirit that such ;i petition would be accordant 
With the will of God ? In a manner similar to this, we 
understand that passage where it is said, "The prayer 
of faith shall save the sick:"' GrOd having promised that 
miraculous effects should follow ;i prayer offered up in 
the exercise of extraordinary or miraculous faith. 



430 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

But there is another kind of faith employed in prayer, 
common to Christians of all ages — a faith which takes 
hold of the Divine attributes and the Divine promises, 
without any miraculous intimation concerning the re- 
sult — a faith which rests distinctly and primarily upon 
God's Word, making that the rule and limit of its expec- 
tations. Whatever is declared in the Sacred Volume, 
it stands ready to receive, and to employ as an argument 
in prayer. Beyond this it never goes. At the same 
time, it may he remarked that this faith is the fruit and 
effect of Divine teaching. It is wrought in the soul by 
that Almighty Agent who enlightens the understanding 
and sanctifies the heart ; and it comprehends in it such 
a vivid belief of what God is, and of what he is ready to 
do for those who truly seek him, as no unrenewed man 
ever possessed. Nor is this all ; it implies a cordial ap- 
probation of the Divine character and will. For, as we 
have already heard, it is faith which works by love. 

How this faith is put forth in the duty of prayer may 
require some elucidation. I cannot better express my 
own views, than by saying that faith in this case is 
directed chiefly to two things — the attributes of God, 
and the promises which God has made in and through 
his dear Son. 

1st. Faith in the first place is directed to the attri- 
butes of God, and has much to do with these in the 
article of prayer. This is clearly implied in the declara- 
tion of the Apostle, " He that cometh to God must be- 
lieve that He is, and that he is the rewarder of them that 
diligently seek him/' as if there could be no acceptable 
worship without such belief. But to believe that God 
is, is not simply to believe that God exists ; it supposes 
and implies that we believe him such a being as he has 
proclaimed himself to be — in other words, that we dis- 
tinctly recognize his glorious attributes as a foundation 
and encouragement to prayer. And hence it is that, in 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 43 \ 

most of the prayers recorded in the Bible, faith is seen 
to fix upon one or more of the Divine attributes. 

But to enter a little more into detail — let me say that 
faith often, if not always, takes hold of the Divine power. 
It comes to God as the Almighty Father of the universe, 
who with infinite ease controls every event throughout 
his vast kingdom. Perceiving the whole energy of na- 
ture to be in his hands, and that creatures are but the 
instruments of his power, it acquires assurance that his 
purposes will stand and that he will execute all his plea- 
sure. Let the day, then, be ever so dark, or the work 
to be accomplished ever so difficult, faith finds a refuge 
in the power of God, connected, as it always is, with his 
unsearchable wisdom and goodness. In truth, faith has 
much more to do with the Divine power than we should 
readily imagine ; and it is more frequently described in 
the sacred writings by its exercises in relation to this 
attribute than any other. 

Thus it is said of Abraham, after he had received the 
promise of a son, that " he staggered not at the promise 
of God through unbelief, but was fully persuaded that 
what God promised he was able also to perform." Thus, 
also, in that greater trial of his faith, when he was called 
to offer up his only begotten son, he appears to have 
kept his eye steadfastly fixed on the power of God, 
"accounting that God was able to raise him up, even 
from the dead." 

The same thing is conspicuous in the faith of the blind 
men who followed Jesus in the way, and cried, saying, 
" Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on us," (Matt, ix.) 
When Jesus had conic into the house and called them 
to him, he said, " Believe ye that I am able to do this?" 
He docs not say, Believe ye thai I will? This was a 
point in his own breast, \n Inch they were unable to solve ; 

but, Believe ye that I am able? To which they replied, 
" Yea, Lord" " And he touched their eyes, and said, 



432 °^ THE z^AYER OF FAITH. 

According to your faith be it unto you ; and their eyes 
were opened." They no doubt hoped in the mercy of 
Jesus, but their faith was primarily built upon his power; 
and this, for aught that appears, was all that was neces- 
sary to secure the blessing. 

Similar to this was the case of the leper mentioned by 
the same Evangelist, (Matt, viii.,) and also of the centu- 
rion who besought Christ to heal his servant. The leper 
came to Jesus, saying, " Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst 
make me clean." He had no doubt, it seems, of Christ's 
power; here his faith was full and unwavering. But 
he had no certain, perhaps no preponderating belief of 
Christ's will or intention in the case. " Lord, if thou wilt, 
thou canst," was his prayer, fully recognizing the power 
of Christ to grant his request, and referring the event to 
his sovereign pleasure. 

As to the centurion, his faith was of so remarkable a 
character as to lead the Saviour to exclaim, " Verily, I 
have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel." And yet 
his faith chiefly terminated on the power of Christ. For 
when Jesus proposed to go and heal his servant, the 
centurion answered, " Lord, I am not worthy that thou 
shouldest come under my roof; but speak the word only, 
and my servant shall be healed." Jesus said, " Go thy 
way, and as (or since) thou hast believed, so be it done 
unto thee. And his servant was healed in the self-same 
hour." 

We cannot pursue this thought ; but there are many 
things in the Scriptures which show that faith looks 
much to God's power, and that its strength is often 
measured by the regard which it has to this attribute. 

But as it is with the power, so it is with the other attri- 
butes of God ; faith directs its eye to them all, as they 
are severally and harmoniously displayed in the works 
and Word of God. If God speak, let it be ivhere and 
what it will, faith stands ready to hear, and to give an un- 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 433 

qualified assent. Is it asserted, in the Bible, that God 
is wise, infinitely wise ? Faith fully accredits the asser- 
tion, and would do so, even if the characters of wisdom 
were less visibly inscribed on the works of God. This 
is a joyful truth, on which it safely reposes at all times, 
and especially in seasons of darkness and calamity, when 
the aspects of Providence are mysterious or foreboding. 

It is said that God is gracious and merciful, ready to 
forgive the penitent and believing ? Faith responds to 
it with confidence and joy, and flies to the bosom of 
eternal mercy as its only refuge ; yes, and to this same 
bosom it delights to carry the sins and sorrows of others, 
while with humble, but importunate desires, it pleads 
that they too may receive from this rich and overflowing 
fountain. It is easy to see, also, that faith looks strongly 
to the 'purity and justice of God, and no less to his un- 
changing truth and faithfulness. His truth, indeed, is 
that glorious attribute to which it necessarily c reaves, 
and on which it stands, as on a basis firm and immova- 
ble. In nothing, perhaps, is faith displayed more, than 
in taking God at his word, and in exercising an implicit 
confidence in his promises. But this brings us to inquire 
more particularly, 

2d. How faith regards the promises of God, all of 
which are made in and through his dear Son. Shall I 
say it regards them as they are, or according to their 
true intent and design ? In other words, that it makes 
them speak a language which the Holy Spirit intended 
they should speak, without IMUfrowiag them on the one 
hand, or giving them an improper latitude on the other? 
These promises are different in their character, and faith 
knows how to distinguish them. Some are absolute, de- 
pending on no condition to be performed, or none which 
is uncertain. Some are conditional, because the blessing 
promised is suspended on something which may or may 
not take place. Other promises are local, confined to 
28 



434 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 



certain individuals or times, and are of no further im- 
portance to believers in general, than as they furnish 
examples of the Divine benignity and faithfulness. Others 
again are universal, because they apply to believers of 
all times and places. Such is the promise of the pardon 
of sin, and of the gift of eternal life ; and the promise 
that God will never leave nor forsake his people. Other 
promises may be called definite, because they hold true 
of every individual, and of every case which comes 
within the purview of the promise. Such is the promise 
made to the faith of miracles. By the very tenor of the 
promise, the Divine veracity stands pledged to the very 
thing asked or believed, in every case where such faith 
exists. And such too, in effect, is the promise of eternal 
life to him that believes. But there are promises of a 
different character, and which cannot, with any reason, 
be interpreted with such undeviating strictness. Such 
are the promises made to believers, in relation to their 
temporal support, and as to the measure of success which 
shall attend their worldly enterprises. These we call 
indefinite, because they are of that general and undefined 
character which leaves the special application of them 
to the sovereign pleasure of God. When Christ said to 
his disciples, " Seek first the kingdom of God and his 
righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto 
you," meaning food and raiment, and whatever was ne- 
cessary to their earthly subsistence, they would greatly 
have mistaken the import of this promise, if they had 
interpreted it so strictly as to infer that his truth was 
pledged in all cases to keep them from suffering and 
want. " Godliness/' we know, " hath the promise of 
the life that now is, and of that which is to come ;" but 
who would think of inferring from this, that none that 
are godly shall suffer hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, 
or even the want of all things ? Look at the condition 
of the Apostles, who were occasionally subjected to 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 435 

every privation and suffering, and to those ancient 
worthies, specially commended for their faith, "who 
were destitute, afflicted, tormented ; who wandered 
about in sheep-skins and goat-skins, in deserts and in 
mountains, in dens and caves of the earth" — God's Word 
and providence must be the interpreters of each other. 
Keeping our eye upon this circumstance, we find no 
difficulty in understanding his promises which pertain to 
the temporal subsistence and comfort of his children. 
We all agree to consider them as indefinite, holding true 
in a sufficient number of cases to justify Him who made 
them, and greatly to encourage those to whom they ap- 
pertain ; but not of such strict and undeviating applica- 
tion as to allow of no exception. We believe, indeed, 
that according to his promise, God will give every tem- 
poral good which he perceives to be the best on the 
whole, and that nothing will be withheld which, in all 
the circumstances of the case, would not be an evil 
rather than a blessing. Why may it not be so, with 
respect to things commonly sought in prayer ? And 
why may not the promises which are made to this duty, 
be interpreted with the same generality ? We can see 
no reason why this should not be done, except in those 
cases where the will or purpose of God as to the event 
is already known. In every such instance, we cheer- 
fully concede that the promise is to be interpreted strictly. 
Thus it is with the promise made to the faith of mira- 
cles, as we have already intimated, and with the promise 
of pardon and eternal life to the penitent ; and thus it is 
with all those promises which relate to the ultimate 
spread <>f the Gospel and the universal reign of Christ. 
In nil these cases the will of God is known, and we 
cannot doubt that these promises will he literally and 
strictly fulfilled. But where the will of God is not 
known, it would seem reasonable, and even necessary, 
to regard the promise as indefinite, holding out encour- 



436 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 



agement to hope and to prayer, but laying no foundation 
for certainty as to the particular result. It is in this 
manner, we suppose, that all those general and compre- 
hensive promises, made to the believing suppliant, in the 
Scriptures, are to be interpreted. Nor will it make any 
difference whether these promises relate to things tem- 
poral or things spiritual. They seem designed to com- 
prehend whatever may be regarded as a proper subject 
of prayer. That there are promises of this description, 
which alike concern every true believer, and which he 
has a right to plead as often as he comes to the throne 
of grace for any legitimate object, will not probably be 
doubted. When Christ says, in his sermon on the mount, 
(Matt. vii. 7, 8,) " Ash, and it shall be given you ; seek, and 
ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you : 
for every one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seeketh, 
findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened," it 
can hardly be made a question that this language author- 
izes every man, and especially every true Christian, to 
ask what he will for himself or for others, pertaining to 
this life or the next, and to ask with the hope that he 
shall receive, provided the object be lawful, and that he 
ask for it in a right manner. And to give the greater 
encouragement to prayer, Christ adds, " What man is 
there of you, who, if his son ask bread, will he give him 
a stone ? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a ser- 
pent ? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good 
gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Fa- 
ther which is in heaven give good things to them that ask 
him ?" Here, then, is a promise that if we ask, we shall 
receive; if we seek, we shall find ; if we knock, it shall be 
opened unto us ; and it restricts us to no particular kind 
of blessings ; but its language is broad enough to cover 
all our wants and all our desires, which, at any time, we 
may have occasion to present to the throne of Divine 
mercy 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 437 

A serious question now arises : how are we to inter- 
pret this promise, and other kindred promises, alike 
comprehensive in their character ? I know of but two 
general opinions which are entertained upon this subject. 
One is that which I have already suggested, that pro- 
mises of this kind are to be regarded as indefinite, so far, 
at least, as they stand related to things where the will 
or purpose of God is not known ; holding true in a suffi- 
cient number of cases to encourage hope and excite to 
prayer — but in no degree pledging the Divine veracity 
that whatsoever we ask with the faith common to true 
believers, or if you please, in a right and acceptable 
manner, we shall certainly receive. The other opinion 
is, that God has bound himself in these promises to give 
to his children whatsoever things they ask believing, making 
no exceptions — but construing the promises as being 
strictly and universally true, applying to every case 
where the blessing is sought in the manner required. 
Thus, if a man were to ask for his daily bread, and to 
ask it with that faith which he is bound to exercise, the 
truth of God stands pledged in the promise to grant it ; 
or if he ask for any other favor, temporal or spiritual, for 
himself or for others, he may ask with an unwavering 
assurance that he shall receive, and receive the very 
thing he asks. Which of these opinions is true ? To 
aid in determining this question, let me solicit your 
attention to the following remarks ■ 

1st. It is more desirable in itself, and a far greater 
privilege to the believer, to have the promise understood 
with the limitation we have suggested, than to suppose 
thai God is pledged to give the rery tiling which is 
asked, be it wise or unwise, for Ins own glory, or the 
contrary. Suppose a parent 1ms two sons, and he should 
say to one, u I will give you whatsoever you ask, provided 
you ask with a dutiful and confiding spirit" — making no 
exceptions expressed or implied. And to the other, "I 



438 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

will give you whatsoever you ask, asking with a /right 
temper — except in those cases where, from my superior 
wisdom, I perceive it would be better to withhold ; " 
which is the most privileged son ? Doubtless we should 
reply, he whose answer to his request is made to turn 
upon his father's wisdom, not his own. I hold this case 
to be precisely parallel with the one under considera- 
tion. Interpret the Divine promise strictly, and the 
believer is sure to have all that he asks ; but is it cer- 
tain that he will have that which, on the whole, is most 
for God's glory, and his own best good ? Take the pro- 
mise with its proposed limitation, and all the attributes 
of God stand pledged that his petitions shall result in his 
highest welfare ; he shall receive all that is good for him, 
and nothing shall be withheld but what eternal wisdom 
perceives would, in all its connections, prove injurious. 
Does not this state of the case furnish a strong presump- 
tion that the promise ought to be interpreted with such 
limitations as we have suggested ? 

2d. Besides : who that is in any measure sensible of his 
own weakness and fallibility, but must be compelled to 
acknowledge that, in a thousand cases, when he prays, 
he knows not what, all things considered, would be for 
the best. His desires may be ardent, and directed to an 
object lawful in itself, and apparently of great moment,' 
when yet he cannot tell whether, in the whole view of 
the case, it would be better for God to give or withhold. 
Why, then, should he not refer the matter to one who 
can tell ? Is not this an act of submission which he 
owes to the all-wise and almighty Governor of the world ? 
Why should he attempt to take a step beyond his proper 
sphere, and by an unconditional and unqualified request, 
affect to give direction to events, the accomplishment of 
which he knows not, and cannot know without a special 
revelation, would be for his own good, or the good of 
God's kingdom ? If there be any point certain, it would 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 439 

seem that, where our ignorance stands confessed, we 
ought to refer our petitions to the sovereign pleasure of 
God. 

3d. But farther : it has commonly been supposed that 
our prayers, for many things at least, should be offered 
with submission. But it is difficult to conceive of any 
case where this ought to be done, if we interpret the 
general promises made to prayer without any restriction. 
We do not ask God to raise the dead and judge the 
world at the last day if it maij please him, because his 
pleasure in regard to those events is already known. 
Nor could it, as we conceive, with any propriety of lan- 
guage be said that in our prayers we submit these events 
to his sovereign pleasure ; because, knowing what that 
pleasure is, there is no such alternative in the case as is 
always supposed when we refer an event to his sovereign 
disposal. 

But if all the promises made to prayer are to be under- 
stood without any limitation or restriction, pledging God 
in every case to give the very thing which is asked, how 
could it ever be our duty to ask with submission ? Our 
requests, it would seem, ought to be as unqualified and 
as absolute as the promise ; and the only point to be 
aimed at would be firmly to believe that our requests 
would be granted. 

4th. Again : it is not unimportant to remark that the 
Apostle John appears to have, interpreted the promises 
made to prayer with the same limitations which we 
have done ; in all cases, I mean, where the will or pur- 
pose of God is not known. (1 John, v. 14, 15.) "This," 
says he, "is the confidence which we have in him, that 
if we ask anything according to his will he heareth us." 
That is, as I anderstand the passage, he lends a gracious 
car, and giants <>ur requests: " if we ask anything accord' 
ing to Ins will" Bui when can this be said of us I [fthe 
will of God here be understood to mean his sovereign 



440 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

pleasure as well as his preceptive will — what he wisely 
purposes as to the event, no less than what he commands 
as a matter of duty, (and we can see no reason why an 
interpretation thus comprehensive should not be given,) 
then it is obvious that we do not ask according to his 
will, in the full meaning of the Apostle, unless three 
things can be affirmed of our petitions : first, that they 
are authorized, embracing proper subjects of prayer; 
secondly, that they are offered in the spirit which God 
requires ; and thirdly, that they coincide with his purpose 
or his sovereign pleasure, being such requests as in his 
wisdom he will deem it proper to grant. When all these 
circumstances concur, no doubt can be entertained that 
God will hear our prayers, and answer us in the very 
thing we ask. But this is adopting the principle advo- 
cated in the preceding remarks, that God is no farther 
bound by his general promise to hear the prayers of his 
people, than to give such things as in his wisdom he 
shall judge most suitable in the case. Not a few com- 
mentators, both ancient and modern, have regarded this 
as the true sense of the Apostle ; and hence one remarks 
that the language here employed is a key to the pro- 
mises made to prayer. But it may be asked if the very 
next words are not incompatible with this view : " And 
if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ash, we know 
that we have the petitions we desired of him." The 
terms are universal — " whatsoever we ask" True : but let 
it be remembered it is whatsoever we ask according to 
his will If the will of God, therefore, be taken to mean 
his sovereign, as well as his preceptive will, the limitation is 
the same as before. Still, it may be inquired, who shall 
decide this point ? Perhaps the language intends no more 
than the will of God expressed in his commands ; and 
then the declaration will be universal, that all things 
absolutely which we ask of God in prayer will be granted, 
provided they are things lawful, and sought in a right 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 44 \ 

spirit. Let the appeal then be made to facts ; does God 
grant all that his people ask, even when they ask for 
things which he has commanded, and in the manner 
which he directs ? He has commanded them to pray 
for the salvation of all men, and to pray with great fer- 
vency and importunity : and did never one of his chil- 
dren, not even Prophet or Apostle, obey this command ? 
perfectly I do not ask, but sincerely and acceptably ? Cer- 
tain it is that, whatever may have been their prayers, 
the world still lieth in wickedness. 

Look at another fact : the prayer of Moses that he 
might go over and see the good land which was beyond 
Jordan, that goodly mountain and Lebanon. This desire 
was natural, and, in itself considered, reasonable : he 
longed to see the inheritance of God's people, from the 
days of Abraham the subject of promise — the place 
where God would specially reveal his mercy, and fulfill 
his covenant with his chosen. But God would not hear 
his prayer : and why ? Not because he was not suffi- 
ciently humble, or sufficiently in earnest ; not because 
he did not take hold of the greatness of God's power, 
and the greatness of his mercy, for he plainly did both ; 
but because God had otherwise determined. His prayer 
did not coincide with the Divine purpose. He had sinned 
at the waters of Meribah-Kadesh, in not sanctifying 
the Lord in the presence of his people; and God had 
doomed him to fall short of the promised land ; nor 
was it in the power of prayer to reverse this sentence. 
Doubtless there were reasons pertaining to the Divine 
government which operated againt the petition of 
Moses; but it is enough to say that God ill his infinite 
wisdom did not tee fit to grtint it. Yet, as a proof of 
his acceptance of Moses, and that he was not displeased 
with his request, he sent him to the top of Pisgah, whence, 
with strengthened vision, u he showed him all the land 
which he sware unto his fathers," and said, " I have 



442 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

caused thee to see it with thine eyes; but thou shalt not 
go over thither." 

Look at the case of David, when he prayed for the 
life of his child. He fasted, and wept, and lay all night 
upon the earth. Was he not truly humbled ? was he 
not importunate ? did he not go to God in the full belief 
that from his infinite benevolence he was disposed to 
hear prayer ? For all that appears, he was never in a 
better frame of mind ; and yet God did not grant the 
thing asked for. We may suppose, indeed, that God 
approved of his prayer as an act of worship, while it did 
not consist with his wise and holy purpose to grant the 
request. But it may be said that David had no right to 
pray for the life of the child, seeing its death had been 
denounced by the prophet. He had the same right, let 
it be remembered, that Hezekiah had to pray for his own 
life, after the prophet said to him : " Set thine house in 
order ; for thou shalt die and not live." The truth is, 
neither David nor Hezekiah regarded the threatening as 
absolute. Had they done so, they would not have dared 
to interpose their supplications. But they supposed 
there was at least a peradventure in the case ; and this 
encouraged them to pray. One, however, was heard, 
and the other was not. Can any other reason be assigned 
for this difference than that the prayer of one coincided 
with the Divine purpose, while that of the other did not 
coincide ? 

How was it with Paul, who thrice besought the Lord 
that the thorn in his flesh might be removed, and received 
for answer, " My grace is sufficient for thee ?" It cannot 
be pretended that he was answered in the very thing 
which he asked ; and yet, from the answer which he did 
receive, it seems impossible not to conclude that his 
prayer was acceptable as an act of duty. What shall 
we say of his constant and earnest prayer for his breth- 
ren, his kinsmen according to the flesh ? Did he not sin- 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 443 

cerely and fervently desire their salvation ? Did he not 
plead for it with increasing importunity ? and yet, as a 
nation, they perished in their unbelief. There is, how- 
ever, a still stronger case in the history of this Apostle : 
I mean the final perdition of some who enjoyed the bene- 
fit of his own ministry. Did he do his duty with regard 
to these men, or did he not ? Most certainly he did not, 
unless he made their salvation the subject of solemn and 
earnest prayer. If he did his duty, why were they not 
saved, on the supposition that God has promised to grant 
whatsoever his people ask in a right manner ? One of 
two things must be true, either that they perished 
through his unfaithfulness, or that, he being faithful, they 
perished notwithstanding. Which of these alternatives 
shall we take ? If the first, we make the Apostle guilty 
of their blood, contrary to one of his most solemn appeals, 
that he was " pure from the blood of all men ;" if the 
second, we give up the principle that God has promised 
to grant everything which his people ask, provided they 
ask in the manner which he has required. 

From this extended view of the subject, what other 
conclusion can be drawn, than that the promises made 
to prayer must be understood with limitation in all cases 
where the will of God is not known. 

If the question then return, how does faith regard the 
promises of God ? our answer must be as before — it re- 
gards them as they are, and embraces them according to 
their true intent and design. Absolute promises it regards 
as absolute, conditional as conditional ; those which are 
definite as holding true in every case, subject to no restric- 
tion or limitation ; and those which are general OX nulefi- 
nite it regards as indefinite, and interprets them accord- 
ingly. Some of (lie promises it considers as specifically 
made to the Apostles, and others in (he primitive Church, 
and not applicable to Christians in general; others as 






444 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

belonging to Christians of all ages, and designed to 
awaken hope and encourage prayer. 

But it may be asked, how can these promises encour- 
age prayer unless we believe them ? And if we believe 
them, do they not insure to us the very things we ask ? 
Is it not said : " All things whatsoever ye ask, believing, 
ye shall receive ?" and again : " Whatsoever things ye 
desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye 
shall have them ?" True : but these promises were 
made to the immediate disciples of Christ, who had the 
power of working miracles, and from the connection, it 
appears, ought to be limited to them and to others gifted 
with the same power. Whenever they exercised the 
faith necessary to a miracle, the Divine veracity stood 
pledged that the miracle should be performed. But as 
these promises were made to a peculiar kind of faith, it 
is evident that they cannot be applicable to Christians at 
large, by whom no such faith is exercised. But farther: 
suppose that these promises had respect to all true Chris- 
tians equally, it is plain that they secure nothing until 
the events prayed for are believed. " Believe that ye re- 
ceive them and ye shall have them," is the promise. It is 
not enough, of course, to believe that God is able to grant 
our petitions, we must believe that he will, or the condi- 
tion of the promise is not complied with, and God is not 
bound. But how shall we come to this belief? We 
cannot come to it through the medium of the promise, 
because the promise pledges nothing, and secures nothing, 
until we actually believe. It affords no evidence that God 
will grant our requests, until we have first believed that 
he will grant them, and then the evidence comes too late 
to be the ground of our faith, because we have believed 
already. We cannot apply the promise until we have 
fulfilled the condition of the promise ; but in fulfilling 
this condition we have exercised the faith required, 
which is a fact prior to the application of the promise, 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 445 

and not subsequent to it ; and consequently does not 
depend upon this application. It must be obvious, we 
think, to all, that faith in this case cannot depend on the 
promise, whatever else it depends on ; but the promise, 
as to its obligatory force, depends on faith — which must 
always be presupposed before the promise can be ap- 
plied. To suppose, as some have done, that faith is 
founded on the promise, is to suppose that the effect exists 
anterior to the cause, or that the effect has no cause : 
for until faith exists the promise avails nothing, as to the 
certainty or probability of the desired event, and cannot 
be the ground of faith, unless it be to believe that God 
will hear us, if we first believe that he will hear us. 
From what quarter, then, must the evidence be derived 
on which this prior faith is to be built ? It cannot be 
drawn from the promise, as we have seen, for that 
pledges nothing until this faith is in being; nor from any 
other source, conceivable by us, short of an immediate 
and special revelation. That such a revelation is possi- 
ble will readily be admitted, but it will be long, if we 
mistake not, before, in the judgment of the Christian 
world, it will be regarded as in any degree probable. 

It is again inquired, however, if Christians do not 
draw near to God in the full assurance of faith, and if 
they are not required to ask in faith, nothing wavering ? 
Certainly ; this is their privilege, and this is their duty. 
But what is their faith assured of? Not that they shall 
receive everything they ask, whether it be best for them 
or otherwise; but that God is a being of infinite perfec- 
tion, ready to do for his people more than they can ask 
or even think, and who will do Jill that they desire, 
unless his eternal wisdom shall decide to the contrary. 
This is what their fail h is assured of, when it is grounded 
upon the Sacred Oracles. And is not this enough 1 
Does not this place their hopes and expectations on the 
best possible foundation ? J besides, let us suppose that 



446 0N THE PLAYER OF FAITH. 

when they pray, they refer their petitions to the sove- 
reign pleasure of God, as they ought most surely to do 
in all cases where that pleasure is not known. What is 
the import of such reference ? Is it not that God should 
grant or not grant, as it may seem good in his sight ? 
Let the event, then, be as it may, their prayers are vir- 
tually answered, though they receive not the very things 
they desired. They receive what is best for them, and 
so far as they were sincere in submitting the matter to 
the will of God, they have what they ultimately chose. 

Should the question then return, with which this Lec- 
ture commenced, " What is it to pray in faith, and how 
far has God bound himself to hear such prayer?" the an- 
swer will be obvious. If the faith concerned be the 
faith of miracles, then it is to pray, believing that the 
very thing which is asked will be granted ; but if refer- 
ence be had to the faith common to all true Christians, 
then it is to pray firmly believing in the being and attri- 
butes of God, in the truth of his gracious promises, and 
in the general fact that he is ready to hear prayer, and 
to grant to his people whatsoever they ask according to 
his will, withholding nothing which he perceives best for 
them, and most for his glory. In all this, however, it is 
to be understood that we ask in Christ's name, and ex- 
pect a gracious hearing on his account solely, as the 
great Mediator of the new covenant, through whom all 
the blessings of that covenant are bestowed. 

We conclude this long discussion with two remarks. 

And first : if we have taken a right view of this sub- 
ject, it is easy to perceive that they must labor under 
a mistake, who imagine that their prayers shall infallibly 
be answered in the very thing they ask, provided they 
ask in the manner which God has prescribed, or in a 
way acceptable to him. They ask, it may be, for the 
conversion of an individual, or for many individuals ; and 
if they ask with a certain degree of fervor, connected 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 447 

with confidence in God as the hearer of prayer, they 
suppose that he is bound by his promise to grant their 
requests ; and hence it has been common for such per- 
sons not only to indulge the hope that their prayers will 
be literally answered — a circumstance which we do not 
condemn — but to predict with confidence that the thing 
prayed for will certainly be given. They are sometimes 
heard to say that they have gotten a promise to this 
effect, because, as God has promised to hear prayer of a 
certain character, and believing that they themselves 
have offered such prayer, they conclude that God is now 
pledged by his promise, and will verify it to them. 
Their mistake, however, lies in this : God has made no 
such promise as they suppose to prayers which his peo- 
ple offer to him in the exercise of a true and living faith. 
They construe the promise as if it were definite or uni- 
versal ; holding true in every case, and subject to no 
limitation or restriction ; whereas we believe, and have 
endeavored to show, that the promise is indefinite in all 
cases where the will or purpose of God is not known; 
of course, that the veracity of God is not pledged to 
grant the very things we solicit, but that he gives or 
withholds according to his sovereign pleasure. But, to 
prevent all misconception, let me explicitly state that 
there is the utmost encouragement to pray, and that the 
hopes of God's people may justly rise high that lie will 
hear and answer their prayers, and often in the very things 
which they desire ; that they have cause to hope the 
more, the more their hearts are drawn out to him, the 
more they can see of his glory, and lie at his feet, and 
exalt his eternal majesty in their hearts; the more they 
can take hold of his strength, and apprehend the truth 
of his promises; the more they can see of Jesus, the 
great Mediator, at the right hand of God, and the stronger 
their reliance upon the fullness of his righteousness, and 
the preciousness rf his blood. Nay, they may have so 



448 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

much hope, arising from these and other circumstances, 
that God intends to hear their prayers in the very things 
which they ask, as to indulge in a prevailing expecta- 
tion that he will ; hut they have no certainty, nor can 
they arrive at it by any process whatever. God is not 
bound, nor can they certainly tell what he will do until 
the event shall declare it, unless you suppose a special 
revelation. 

But I hear it said, would God breathe into my heart 
such desires, so sincere, so ardent, unless he intended to 
answer them ? I may reply, it is not very probable, but 
still there is no certainty. Had not Paul very sincere 
and ardent desires for the salvation of his brethren, his 
kinsmen according to the flesh ? and were not these 
desires the fruit of the Spirit ? These desires, however, 
though often expressed in prayer, were not granted. 
And it may be so with respect to many who offer fer- 
vent prayers now. Besides, where has God said that 
he will not move his people to feel and pray as they 
ought to do, without giving them the very things which 
they ask ? Are they not bound to plead for every bless- 
ing, and especially for spiritual blessings, with the utmost 
sincerity, and, where the blessing is supremely import- 
ant, with all the strength and fervor of their souls ? 
Would they not thus plead if they were perfectly sanc- 
tified ? and would it not be a privilege to plead in this 
manner, though God should not always grant the very 
thing which they desire ? Who can say that God does 
not often impart this spirit of prayer chiefly for the pur- 
pose of bringing his children near to him, and perfecting 
that holy fellowship which they have with the Father 
and the Son ? 

Far be it from us to dampen the faith and hope of 
Christians by these remarks, or in any degree to diminish 
the proper inducemen s to prayer. Would that they 
might feel a thousand times more confidence in the 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 449 

power, and wisdom, and grace, and covenant faithfulness 
of God than they do, and that they took a far deeper 
interest in the cause of truth and the salvation of their 
fellow-men ! But we desire to guard against a spirit of 
presumption, and to promote a correct mode of thinking 
and speaking on this deeply momentous subject. 

2d. We remark, secondly, that as we have no au- 
thority for predicting any particular event simply on 
the ground of our prayers, as though God had bound 
himself to grant whatsoever we desire, so, on the other 
hand, it is venturing too far to assert that we shall not have 
this or that mercy unless we pray for it. We must be 
careful not to limit God where he has not limited him- 
self. There are many favors which he ordinarily gives 
in answer to prayer, and some perhaps which he will not 
give unless duly solicited at his hand. But it is wise in 
us not to invade his sovereignty, nor to set bounds to his 
goodness where he has set none. It is usual for God to 
connect the salvation of children with the fidelity of pa- 
rents ; and if a parent is unfaithful, and neither prays nor 
labors for the conversion of his children, as he ought to do, 
it might justly be said that he has little or no reason to 
expect their conversion. It is God's usual method to 
connect revivals of religion with the prayers and fidelity 
of Christians in those places where revivals occur; and 
it might be proper to say that Christians have no reason 
to expect a revival in such places, while they remain in 
a great measure indifferent to this object, and neither 
pray nor labor for it with becoming zeal. But is it not 
going too far to assert that this is God's only method of 
building up his cause? that a revival will never be ex- 
perienced and sinners converted until Christians awake 
and cry mightily to God for the descent of his Spirit? 
in other words, thai God will not pour out his Spirit 
upon a congregation bill in answer to solemn and special 
prayer by his people for this object ? Such language is 
29 



450 0N THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 

often employed, but we think it unguarded: it is war- 
ranted neither by the tenor of God's promises nor by 
the events of his providence. He does more for his 
people often than they ask, and sometimes surprises 
them by a mercy which they neither looked for nor re- 
quested. I could mention several important revivals of 
religion, (nearly twenty,) if an ingathering of souls into 
the Redeemer's kingdom ought to be so denominated, 
which were not preceded, so far as human eyes could 
discern, by any special spirit of prayer on the part of the 
Lord's people. They were manifestly asleep when the 
heavenly bridegroom came, and were roused into action 
only by his almighty voice calling dead sinners from the 
tomb. 

Such events do not happen to exculpate the unbelief, 
the slothfulness and stupidity of Christians, but to display 
God's sovereignty, and to overwhelm us with the bound- 
less riches of his mercy. 

I know it may be said that it is not easy to determine 
whether such revivals as I have alluded to, were not, 
after all, the immediate answer to prayer. Some person, 
however obscure or unheeded, may have prayed for them 
some time or other, if not immediately preceding their 
commencement. This, indeed, is possible, though no 
evidence can be produced of the fact. But, were this 
admitted, one thing is certain — the churches, as collec- 
tive bodies, were asleep, and this is enough for our pur- 
pose. It shows that the blessing was not necessarily 
suspended on their prayers — at least those solemn and 
earnest prayers to which the promise of God is evidently 
made. God has promised, for the purpose of encouraging 
his people to pray ; and he fulfills his promises in such 
circumstances, and often with such particularity, as to 
inspire his people with confidence and joy; but this 
hinders not the display of his sovereign mercy towards 
individuals and communities, whenever and wherever 



ON THE PRAYER OF FAITH. 45 J 

he may judge it will subserve the purpose of his glory. 
Let us beware, then, of taking ground which he himself 
has not taken, and of dealing out assertions concerning 
the operations of his grace which neither his Word nor 
providence will sustain. At the same time, let us also 
beware that our very caution do not betray us into luke- 
warmness and unbelief; and that, under a pretext of 
Divine sovereignty, we excuse our want of zeal in the 
cause of man's salvation. We act under a fearful re- 
sponsibility, and danger awaits us on every side. Our 
only safety lies in making God's Word the rule of our 
faith, and his glory the end of our actions. May he give 
to us that humble, inquisitive and impartial spirit which is 
intimately connected with successful investigation, and 
which will be the surest pledge of our understanding 
and obeying the truth. 



LECTURE IXI 



ON APOSTACY 



Hebrews vi. 4, 5, 6. — " For it is impossible for those who were once enlight- 
ened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy- 
Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to 
come, if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance : seeing they 
crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame." 

We have, in these words, the character and doom of 
those who openly apostatize from the Christian faith, 
after having been greatly enlightened, and the subjects 
of supernatural gifts. It is evidently no ordinary or oc- 
casional backsliding of which the Apostle speaks, but 
one which is deep and entire — an apostacy from the 
principles and hopes of the Gospel, marked with the 
bitterest contempt for the Lord Jesus, and for the Di- 
vine Spirit, by whose mighty signs and wonders the 
Gospel was at first attested to the world. For apostates 
of this guilty character, the Apostle asserts there is no 
hope ; not because God has not power to reclaim them, 
but because it is against his purpose to interpose in their 
behalf. In having willfully opposed the light imparted 
by the preaching of the Gospel, and by the miraculous 
operations of the Spirit, they were virtually guilty of the 
sin which is unto death, and, of course, cut themselves 
off from the Divine favor forever. On this point, so far 
as I know, there is no difference of opinion ; commenta- 
tors, with one voice, admit that the apostacy here spoken 



ON APOSTACY. 453 

of is final and irremediable. They admit, also, that it 
was the design of the Apostle to put his Hebrew breth- 
ren on their guard against an apostacy of this fearful 
character. But the question which has been long agi- 
tated is, who are they that stand exposed to this apos- 
tacy ? They are persons, doubtless, whose privileges 
and attainments are here described — " those who were 
once enlightened." But who are these ? Are they true 
Christians ? and does the Apostle, in this place, describe 
Christian character ? or does he speak of such only, as were 
greatly distinguished by their peculiar gifts and attain- 
ments, while, nevertheless, they fell short of true piety ? 

We ask your attention to the remarks which may be 
made in answer to these inquiries. And let me here 
say, it is of the more importance that we come to a cor- 
rect interpretation of this passage, because as we ex- 
pound this, we shall be led to expound several others in 
the sacred volume ; while the principles we adopt in 
this explication will be likely to shape our views on 
other topics of Christianity. 

By those who deny the doctrine of the saints' perse- 
verance, it has been universally contended that the 
Apostle, in this place, describes the character of true 
Christians, and hence they infer that there is no certain 
connection between any measure of spiritual attainments 
and the salvation of the soul. The terms employed they 
consider as appropriately describing Christian character ; 
and since the Apostle, in the warning which he adminis- 
ters, goes upon the principle thai there is danger of falling 
from the state here described, they entertain no doubt 
that true Christians may fall finally and irrecoverably. If 
no danger, say they, why caution ? And danger there 
could not be, if God has pledged himself, by his almighti- 
ness, that no true Christian shall apostatize. 

But we cannot admit this interpretation, for several 
reasons. 



454 



ON APOSTACY. 



1st. Because the terms employed by the Apostle, 
though descriptive of high spiritual attainments, are not 
the terms usually employed to designate the Christian 
character. They are not properly discriminative of this 
character, as we shall endeavor to show in the sequel. 

2d. Because this interpretation stands opposed to nu- 
merous passages of Scripture which assert, in the most 
decisive manner, the covenant safety of the people of 
God. It does not fall in with our present purpose, to 
enter into the proof of this statement. We shall only 
say, it is upon no light ground, we believe that those 
who are united to Christ by a living faith, are united to 
him in a bond which is indissoluble and eternal. " My 
sheep hear my voice," said the Saviour, " I know them, 
and they follow me, and I give to them eternal life, and 
they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out 
of my hand. My Father who gave them me is greater 
than all, and none is able to pluck them out of my Fa- 
ther's hand." We cannot, therefore, subscribe to an 
interpretation which is so manifestly at war with the 
plain and unequivocal testimony of God. Nor, 

3d. Can we yield to it for another reason, viz., that 
it ill accords with the words of the Apostle which 
immediately follow. Having spoken of the deplorable 
end of those who should finally apostatize, he adds, by 
way of illustration : " For the earth which drinketh in 
the rain that cometh oft upon it, and bringeth forth 
herbs meet for them by whom it is dressed, receiveth 
blessing from God : but that which beareth thorns and 
briers is rejected, and is nigh unto cursing, whose end is 
to be burned." Under the emblem of different soils he 
sets forth the different character of Christian professors. 
By the fruitful soil he represents true believers, who re- 
ceiving the word into good and honest hearts, bring 
forth fruit unto perfection, and of course stand secure in 
the Divine favor. And by the unfruitful soil, or that 



ON APOSTACY. 455 

which beareth thorns and briers, he designates those 
whose fallow ground was never broken up, and who, 
though they receive the word even with joy, still have 
no root in themselves, and in time of temptation may- 
fall away. The one class, like the fruitful earth, receiv- 
eth blessing from God ; the other, like the barren earth, 
is nigh unto cursing, whose end is to be burned. " But 
beloved, " says the Apostle, " we are persuaded better 
things of you, and things which accompany salvation, 
though we thus speak." As if there were some things 
which did accompany salvation, or were infallibly con- 
nected with it, and others which did not thus accompany 
it. The former I take to be the better things which the 
Apostle was persuaded were possessed by his beloved 
brethren, and which would not only secure them against 
final apostacy, but entitle them to the Divine favor. But 
as he did not know their hearts, and fearing there might 
be some among them who, with all their spiritual gifts, 
had not believed to the saving of their souls, he deemed 
it important to address them in the language of warning, 
and to guard them against an apostacy, into which were 
they to fall, they could not be recovered. This view of 
the case supplies a reason for the manner of his address, 
without supposing it doubtful whether, if true believers, 
they would certainly persevere. Nay, the very fact of 
distinguishing between things which accompany salva- 
tion and things which do not, is a clear indication of the 
ground which he takes; and that this ground IS not, that 
if true Christians tiny were liable to fall, and fall irre- 
coverably, for ought lie or they know to the contrary; but 
an apprehension that they were not all true Christians, 
however distinguished by their gifts or attainments. But 
there is another opinion, which, to some extent, lias pre- 
vailed in tbis country, and which, though of modern 
origin, deserves to be considered. It is tbis. Thai the 
Apostle describes Cbristian character in tbis passage, and 



456 0N APOSTACY. 

Christian character only, while there is no intimation 
that Christians ever do, in fact, utterly fall away, but 
only if they should fall, they could not again be recovered. 
It is supposed that the Apostle speaks hypothetically — 
putting a case which is physically possible but morally 
impossible — and putting it for the purpose of awakening 
fear, and thus to prevent the evil against which he warns. 
Two things here are worthy of notice. The first is, that 
we find nothing in the original which is answerable to 
the hypothetical form in our translation. It is not there 
said if they shall fall away, but, in the judgment of seve- 
ral able critics, " and having fallen away," implying a 
case which might in fact occur, and which, without great 
circumspection, probably would occur. The second 
thing is, that on the above view of the passage it is not 
easy to see to what purpose the Apostle should introduce 
this subject to the notice of Christian professors ; if they 
were false professors it did not belong to them, they had 
no concern in it. And if they were true professors, it 
implies a case which he and they knew could never be- 
come theirs. To tell them what would happen or what 
would not happen, upon the occurrence of an event 
which it was well known never would occur, does not 
seem adapted to work either upon their hopes or their 
fears. But perhaps the design of the Apostle was merely 
to state a fact important for all true Christians to know, 
viz. : that they must persevere in order to be saved ; 
and that all their attainments would be vain without 
this. If this were his object, why does he dwell upon 
the guilt and deplorable consequences of an entire apos- 
tacy aggravating every circumstance, as if intending to 
alarm his Christian brethren with an event, dreadful in 
itself, and, in point of fact, likely to happen ? All this 
would seem to be unnecessary, not to say out of place, 
if his only design was to state the fact that perseverance 
in well-doing was essential to salvation. Would any 



ON APOSTACY. 457 

person at this day, who believes in the final perseverance 
of the saints, take such a method to assure his brethren 
that they only who endure unto the end can be saved ? 
But I hear it said, doubtless the Apostle had the further 
intention of exciting the fears of his Christian brethren, 
and by means of those fears to preserve them from final 
apostacy. There cannot be a doubt, indeed, that such 
was the fact. But how does this fact agree with the 
supposition that he had been describing the character 
and condition of true believers only ? This is vital to 
the subject, and I hope will arrest your attention. Would 
the Christian Hebrews be concerned about the issue of 
their salvation by being told that if true believers should 
fall away, an event which they knew never had hap- 
pened, and never would, they could not again be re- 
covered. How could they be made to fear an event 
with respect to themselves, which, on the supposition that 
they were true Christians, was just as impossible as for 
God himself to lie ? and which, if they were not true 
Christians, did not concern them at all ? For let it be 
remembered that on the present hypothesis it is of the 
apostacy of true Christians that the Apostle speaks. But 
do not true Christians sometimes fear their own apos- 
tacy ? And may not this very fear be a means of their 
preservation ? So we most certainly believe. But pray, 
how is this fear to be excited? By telling them of what 
they know never did happen and never will ? Or by 
telling them what every man in the Christian world 
knows to be fact, viz. : that men may go great lengths in 
religion without being truly religious; may have great 
know ledge, great gifts and high hopes, and yet fall away 
irrecoverably. The Church has witnessed such facts from 
the beginning, and i( is scarcely possible that they should 
not awaken fear in the bosom of (rue Christians, especially 
if they have not reached, and do not live in the full 
assurance of hope. But let us sift this matter to the 



458 0N APOSTACY. 

bottom. The present interpretation supposes that the 
doctrine of the saints' perseverance is a true doctrine ; 
of course that the Apostle and the Christians to whom 
he was writing believed it. Now I have to request of 
every man who receives the same doctrine to examine 
his own mind upon this subject. Is he ever afraid, if a 
true Christian, that he shall not persevere 1 Does he 
ever dwell upon the awful consequences of a true Chris- 
tian's apostacy, and harrow up his mind with the tre- 
mendous guilt and hopeless nature of such a case ? No ? 
We dare make our appeal to the bosom of every man, 
that this is an object which never arrests his attention 
for a single moment. lie dreads no such thing, and for 
this plain reason, he knows it can never take place, if 
the doctrine of the saints' perseverance be true. All his 
fears spring from another source ; peradventure, he says 
to himself, I am not a true Christian ; my experience 
may be nothing beyond the experience of hypocrites 
or self-deceived persons. This is the ground, and 
the only ground, on which fear can assail him so long 
as he is firmly persuaded that no true Christian will 
ever finally fall away. Are we then to believe, with 
so plain a case before us, that the Apostle would at- 
tempt to alarm his Christian brethren with respect to 
their own safety, on principles and by means which 
would in no degree alarm us ? That he would solemnly 
declare to them that true believers could never be re- 
covered from an apostacy which would never happen ! 
And yet, to this absurdity we are necessarily brought by 
supposing that he describes true Christians in the words 
before us, and as such warns them against an irrecover- 
able fall. Nor will it relieve the difficulty in our appre- 
hension, by resorting to a distinction sometimes made, 
that a thing may be physically possible, while it is 
morally impossible. For supposing an event to be phy- 
sically possible while it is known to be morally impossi- 



ON APOSTACY. 459 

ble, or morally certain that it will never occur, can it, 
in these circumstances, be an object either of hope or of 
fear? Surely it will not be pretended that I can hope 
for an object which I know to be unattainable, let the 
cause of its unattainableness be what it may. And with 
as little justness can it be said that I can fear an object 
which I have the highest assurance will never exist. 
Did ever a man hope for the recovery of the finally lost, 
who firmly believes in the doctrine of eternal punish- 
ment 1 Or did ever a man fear that saints will fall 
from the fruition of heaven, who has not one doubt of 
the permanence of their bliss ? The thing is in a high 
degree irrational, and can never take place while the 
laws of the human mind remain what they are. 

But after all it may be said, how can the expressions 
in our text — so full in themselves, and so multiplied one 
upon another — be understood of any but of true believ- 
ers ? Have any but true believers been once enlight- 
ened ? tasted of the heavenly gift ? been made partak- 
ers of the Holy Ghost ? tasted the good word of God ? 
and the powers oi the world to come ? Yes, my dear 
brethren, there were persons in the Apostles' day, to 
whom all these expressions were strictly applicable, 
though they had never been renewed in the temper of 
their minds, nor possessed of one particle of that faith 
to which the promise of eternal life is annexed. These 
are not the terms, striking as they are, which are usually 
employed to designate the Christian character. Nothing 
is here said of that sorrow for sin which is after a godly 
sort; of that feith which is unfeigned — of that charity 
which socket h not her own nor of that brotherly love 
which is the bond of perfectness ; nothing, in short, 
of any of those graces which are the fruits of the Spirit, 
and which decisively mark the regenerated man. Not 
one of the circumstances here dwelt upon, can be ap- 
pealed to as substantial evidence of that holiness with- 



460 0N APOSTACY. 

out which no man shall see the Lord. Striking views, 
indeed, are given of privilege and attainment — but no- 
thing is said of those things which the Scriptures else- 
where lay down as unquestionable marks of true piety. 
Of this we shall be better satisfied after examining briefly 
the terms here employed. 

I begin with the phrase " those who were once en- 
lightened ;" that is, as I understand it, and as it is under- 
stood by most commentators, those who had been 
enlightened by the light of Christianity or by the truths 
of the Gospel. That the phrase has sometimes a more 
extended signification and applies to those who are sav- 
ingly illuminated, we cheerfully concede. But that it is 
often otherwise, and means no more than to be specu- 
latively enlightened by the truth, must be admitted by 
those who are at all conversant with the sacred writings. 
It is thus used in the tenth chapter of this Epistle ; and 
also in the fourth chapter of the Ephesians, where the 
Apostle declares that he was appointed to preach among 
the Gentiles the unspeakable riches of Christ, " that he 
might make all men see," or, as it might be rendered, 
" that he might show light to all, so as to make them see 
what is the fellowship of the mystery which from the 
beginning of the world hath been hid in God who crea- 
ted all things by Jesus Christ." The Sacred Scriptures 
abound with expressions of kindred import. Jesus 
Christ is called the light of the world, and the light 
which lighteneth every man that comethinto the world; 
not because he imparts spiritual and saving light to all, 
but because the light of Divine truth was widely diffused 
by means of his ministry and that of his Apostles. John, 
his forerunner, was a light, and the Pharisees for a sea- 
son were willing to rejoice in his light — not because he 
was to them the instrument of saving illumination, but 
because the light of his doctrines powerfully and favora- 
bly affected them for a time. The Gospel is called a 
light, inasmuch as it imparts the light of Divine truth to 



ON APOSTACY. 4^2 

the understandings of men. " This is the condemnation 
that light hath come into the world, and men love dark- 
ness rather than light." Truth, so far as it is received, 
dispels the darkness of ignorance; and hence to receive 
the knowledge of the truth, and to be enlightened, are 
expressions of equivalent import. 

Can it then be any matter of surprise that the Apostle 
should characterize those who were in danger of apos- 
tacy by their having been once enlightened ? Since 
whatever speculative light they might have, it was no 
evidence of a renovated heart, and no effectual security 
against an open and irrecoverable fall ? But should the 
expression be taken in a still wider sense, so as to in- 
clude some extraordinary illumination of the Divine 
Spirit, it would not follow that the subjects of it were 
savingly enlightened. It might still be true of them that 
they never beheld the glory of God in the face of Jesus 
Christ, nor were changed into the same image from glory 
to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. Was not 
Balaam extraordinarily enlightened, when he predicted 
the prosperity of Israel, and the coming of the Messiah ? as 
well as his own future condemnation ? " Balaam, the 
son of Beor hath said, and the man whose eyes are open 
hath said — he hath said who heard the words of God 
and knowledge of the Most High — I shall see him, but 
not now ; I shall behold him, but not nigh : there shall 
come a star out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of 
Israel, and shall smite the four corners of Moab, and 
destroy all the children of Sheth." Here was a man 
enlightened, and enlightened in a miraculous manner, but 
whoso mind was never savingly illuminated, nor his 
heart brought into sweet subject ion to God. Nor is it 
in the least, degree improbable that this was the case 

with some of whom the Apostle speaks in (lie clause 

under consideration. 

(2.) But he describes those, also, who had not only 



462 



ON APOSTACY. 



been enlightened, but had tasted the heavenly gift, and 
been made partakers of the Holy Ghost. I consider 
these two clauses together, because in the judgment of 
some commentators they both refer to one and the same 
thing, viz. : the gift of the Spirit — not in his sanctifying 
but in his convicting influence, and perhaps also in his 
miraculous power, by which he imparted extraordinary 
gifts. That many persons were subjects of the Spirit's 
convincing influence in the Apostolic age, without ever 
being quickened to a new and holy life, nobody doubts, 
who believes in the agency of the Spirit at all. Nor 
ought it to be doubted that the very same persons were 
often made partakers of the Holy Ghost in his miracu- 
lous power, in consequence of which they were enabled 
not only to speak with tongues and to prophesy, but to 
heal the sick, and raise the dead, and cast out devils. 
To our short-sighted understandings, it may appear 
strange that unholy men should be thus miraculously en- 
dowed. But from the words of the New Testament the 
fact is unquestionable : and this fact is not, as we might 
suppose, here and there an instance of the kind, but 
instances in great numbers. " Many shall say unto me in 
that day, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and 
in thy name cast out devils, and in thy name done many 
wonderful works, to whom I will say, I never knew you ; 
depart from me ye that work iniquity." 

It is not improbable that Judas wrought as many mir- 
acles for a time as did the other Apostles. Nor is there 
anything in the case which should either surprise or 
stumble us. Miraculous gifts imply no new nature, and 
could no more infer God's peculiar favor in the Apostles' 
days, than the distinguishing gifts of his common provi- 
dence can in ours. Paul seems to have well understood 
this when he said : " Though I speak with the tongues 
of men and angels, and have not charity, I am become 
as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal ; and though I 



ON APOSTACY. 4Q3 

have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries 
and all knowledge, and though I have all faith so as to 
remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing," 
which supposes not only that there is no infallible con- 
nection between these gifts and the sanctifying grace of 
God, but that the subjects of them may be worthless in 
his sight, and fall under the tokens of his everlasting 
displeasure. If any choose to say, as some have done, 
that tasting the heavenly gift relates to the instruction 
and to the privilege of living under the Christian econ- 
omy, which is certainly the gift of heaven, we have 
nothing to object ; and if to be partakers of the Holy 
Ghost should be interpreted simply to be endowed with 
miraculous gifts, no important error will be advanced 
whether the whole truth be embraced or not. But let it 
not be forgotten, that all this is very far short of true piety. 

(3.) Moreover, as tasting the heavenly gift and being 
made partakers of the Holy Ghost, carry us to nothing 
which distinguishes the true believer, so we think, that 
tasting the good Word of God, and the powers of the 
world to come, makes no greater approximation to the 
Christian character. 

To taste the good Word of God, doubtless implies not 
merely an acquaintance with this Word, but a pleasure 
experienced in listening to its counsels, and in contem- 
plating the blessings which it tenders. And, possibly, 
it may imply that hope is awakened and fear allayed, 
and even joy enkindled in view of the merciful provi- 
sions which it announces to the guilty ; for all this is not 
unfrequently experienced by those who do not sincerely 
comply with the conditions of the Gospel. How was it 
with the stony-ground hearers, mentioned by our Lord 
in the parable 1 Tbey heard (he Word, and anon with 
joy received it, but not into a good and honest heart ; 
and, consequently! did not embrace it from right mo- 
tives. There was no deepness of earth, where the seed 



454 0N APOSTACY. 

fell, and, therefore, no security that when it should 
spring up, it would not wither away. Herod heard 
John gladly, and did many things ; but he did not truly 
repent, nor forsake sin. And thousands who were 
charmed with the preaching of Christ, and rejoiced in 
his ministry for a time, afterwards forsook him and joined 
with those who demanded his crucifixion. How many 
cases have we all seen of persons deeply affected by the 
Word of Truth, and professing cordially to embrace it, 
who, in the end, gave mournful evidence that the image 
of their Saviour was never drawn upon their hearts. 
Such instances were numerous in the first ages of the 
Church. Nor is it strange or unnatural to^ suppose, that 
the Apostle had his eye turned especially to them. 

But he speaks of those who had not only tasted the 
good Word of God, but the powers of the world to come ; 
that is, as is commonly supposed, of the age to come, 
meaning the Gospel dispensation, so called because it 
succeeded, and was predicted to succeed, the Jewish 
dispensation. Understanding then, by the world to come, 
the Gospel or coming age, it will be natural to interpret 
the powers of this age, of the miraculous powers or gifts 
which attended the introduction of Christianity, and 
which were tasted or experienced by the persons of 
whom the Apostle speaks. 

But as this would be little more than a repetition of 
what had been said of the same persons when they were 
declared to be made partakers of the Holy Ghost, some 
have preferred another interpretation ; and by tasting or 
experiencing the powers of the world to come, would 
understand some vivid apprehensions of another and 
eternal world — such views, say of heaven and hell, as 
awakened in these persons a deep concern for their 
eternal welfare, and put them upon vigorous efforts to 
secure it; a case often witnessed in times of religious 
revivals, where no evidence is given of being born of 



ON APOSTACY. 4£5 

God, and where no hope is indulged that any such 
change has been effected. 

But take either of these interpretations, and we shall 
be compelled to admit that they embrace nothing which 
is peculiar or essential to Christian character. There is 
indeed but a single article in this whole description, 
according to a late Biblical critic, which contains any- 
thing properly discriminative of true piety ; and for this, 
he exhibits no evidence from the power and force of the 
words themselves, nor from the connection in which 
they stand to other parts of the description. The phrase 
to which he alludes is, " and have tasted the good Word 
of God ;" that is, according to his interpretation, " have 
experienced or known by experience the good Word of 
God, or the good contained in its promises ;" referring, 
as he thinks, to the consolations administered, or to the 
hopes excited, by the promises of the Gospel. Now, 
we have no doubt that the persons spoken of had expe- 
rience, and experience of the good Word of God ; that 
their hopes were awakened by its promises, and perad- 
venture their joys excited. But the question is, What 
was the nature of their experience ? Was it of a sancti- 
fying and transforming character? Nothing of this is 
implied or intimated ; and it is certainly somewhat sin- 
gular that every other characteristic given in this passage 
confessedly falls short of true piety, while this alone is 
supposed to embrace it. The fact is, as we believe, that 
the Apostle throughout designedly selected such terms 
as would mark high and peculiar privileges and attain- 
ments, but would not necessarily involve Christian char- 
acter. We must not protract this discussion, or we 
should deem it important, in supporting the views we 
have taken, to compare our text wit li Several other 

passages in the Apostle's writings, particularly with 

what IS said in chapters x. and xii. of this epistle. In 
both places the Apostle speaks of a final and irrecover- 
30 



455 0N APOSTACY. 

able apostacy, which he feared might actually overtake 
some of his brethren, and which he wished them to fear 
in regard to one another. He speaks of it as an event 
which might actually occur, for aught he or they knew 
to the contrary, and bids them beware of the very first 
steps or leadings to such an apostacy. Nay, in the 
twelfth chapter he brings forward an example of an in- 
dividual who, for treating with negligence and contempt 
the special advantages he enjoyed, not only exposed 
himself to lose, but actually did lose, the important 
blessings in his offer. "Looking diligently," says he, 
" lest any man fail of the grace of God ; lest any root of 
bitterness springing up, trouble you, and thereby many 
be defiled ; lest there be any fornicator or profane person, 
as Esau, who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. 
For ye know how that afterward, when he would have 
inherited the blessing, he was rejected, and found no 
place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with 
tears." To what purpose was this reference to the case 
of Esau, unless it was analogous to the one which the 
Apostle was endeavoring to illustrate — an apostacy from 
exalted privilege, not from Christian character, accom- 
panied with certain and irremediable ruin ? Some have 
thought that Esau, by profanely despising his birthright, 
cut himself off finally from the blessings of God's cove- 
nant. If this were so, his case was not merely analogous 
to that of apostates under the Christian dispensation ; it 
was virtually an example of such apostacy, inasmuch as 
by despising the advantage put into his hands, he for- 
feited the friendship of God and brought down upon his 
guilty head the vengeance due to his sacrilegious con- 
tempt. But how unmeaning, not to say impertinent, 
would such an example be, if the Apostle was speaking 
of an apostacy of true Christians — an apostacy which he 
and his brethren knew never had happened and never 
would ! 



ON APOSTACY. 4£7 

I ask your attention to a single illustration more. It 
is taken from a passage in the Second Epistle of Peter, 
compared with a similar one found in Jude. 

After speaking of those who had forsaken the right 
way — not of those simply who were in danger of for- 
saking it ; of those, I say, who had forsaken the right 
way, and were gone astray, following the way of Balaam, 
the son of Besor ; of those who were wells without 
water, and clouds that are carried with a tempest, to 
whom the mist of darkness is reserved forever ; persons 
whose judgment now a long time lingered not, and whose 
damnation slumbered not ; who spoke great swelling 
words of vanity, promising others liberty, while they 
themselves were the servants of corruption ; persons 
who could surely be none other than actual apostates 
from the Christian faith. After speaking of such persons, 
he adds : " For, if after they have escaped the pollutions 
of the world, through the knowledge of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ, they are again entangled therein, 
and overcome ; the latter end is worse with them than 
the beginning ; for it had been better for them not to 
have known the way of righteousness, than, after they 
have known it, to turn from the holy commandment de- 
livered unto them. But it has happened unto them 
according to the true proverb : ' The dog is turned to 
his own vomit again, and the sow that was washed, to 
her wallowing in the mire.' " 

Two facts lie upon the face of this passage. 

1st. That the persons here described were never true 
Christians ; their moral nature had undergone no change, 
through the renewing operations of the Holy Spirit. 
They were dogs and swine, possessed of an unclean 
nature from the beginning, though for a season appa- 
rently corrected in their impure habits. And, 

2d. That they had actually apostatized, and stood ex- 
posed to the just judgments of God. That their apostacy 



468 °- N APOSTACY. 

was final and irremediable, is generally conceded, and 
cannot well be denied, after looking at their opinions 
and practice, and considering the awful denunciations 
which the Apostle has made concerning them. If sin- 
ning willfully and presumptuously, after having received 
the knowledge of the truth, (as these persons most cer- 
tainly had,) can cut a man off from the hopes of Divine 
mercy, and render his perdition inevitable, there is not 
the least reason to doubt that Peter here speaks of those 
whose apostacy was irrecoverable, having drawn back 
unto perdition. 

I ask, then, is this case parallel, so far as Christian 
character is concerned, with the one presented in our 
text ? I know that Peter speaks of an apostacy which 
had happened, and Paul of one which might happen ; 
but is the apostacy mentioned by both writers, from 
among the same class of persons, and substantially of 
the same character ? If this should be conceded, and 
some of our modern expositors concede it, there seems 
to be no escape from the conclusion, either that true 
Christians do sometimes utterly fall away, or that the 
Christian character is not described in the words of our 
text. 

We have already exceeded the usual limits of a single 
discourse ; but there are two or three objections to the 
opinion we have advanced which require a brief notice. 

The first is, that if the persons described in our text 
were not true Christians, but evidently fell short of this 
character, why was the Apostle so solicitous about their 
apostacy, seeing they would perish where they were, 
though they should never apostatize ? Ought he not 
rather to have addressed them as hypocrites, and ex- 
horted them to repentance, instead of bidding them take 
heed lest they should fall ? 

This objection, let me say, overlooks an important fact 
which governed the Apostle in his addresses to the 



ON APOSTACY. 459 

churches, viz., that he did not know the hearts of his 
Christian brethren. Whether they were or were not 
what they professed to be was more than he could tell. 
He had his hopes, and with regard to some of them, 
very joyful hopes ; but he had his fears also. Many who 
had begun in the spirit had ended in the flesh, and how 
many more would do so time alone could determine. 
He was obliged, therefore, to address them in their col- 
lective capacity, as professors of religion, in whom his 
confidence was more or less strong, as their work and 
labor of love had been more or less conspicuous. He 
could not distinguish, if he would, between those whose 
hearts were truly renovated and those who fell short of 
this change, though in gifts and supernatural attainments 
they ranked as high as others. He was placed in the 
same circumstances, in relation to them, as ministers of 
the Gospel are to their people now ; and his address to 
them proceeds exactly upon the same principles. He 
warns and expostulates, encourages and reproves, just 
as a faithful pastor would do at the present day. It was 
eminently fit and becoming, therefore, that he should 
put them on their guard against an apostacy which had 
proved fatal to many, and which he had every reason to 
fear might prove so to some of them. But it would have 
been exceedingly unfit and improper to assume the fact 
of their hypocrisy or self-deception, whether as individ- 
uals or as a body, and then to exhort them to repent- 
ance ; and the more so, if no clear proof existed, either 
of their hypocrisy or deception I We should instantly 
condemn such a course in a minister of the Gospel at 
the present day, and why not in the Apostle, had he 
been so unwise as to fall into it. 

But why, it is asked, was he so afraid of their apos- 
tacy, if not true Christians, seeing they must perish to 
all eternity, living and dying as they were? Let me 
tell you. In the first place, he feared this on their own 



470 



ON APOSTACY. 



account. In their present state, supposing them not true 
Christians, there was ground to hope that they might 
be, considering the mercy of God, and the many appro- 
priate means they enjoyed. But were they openly to 
apostatize from the Christian faith, and to fall back again 
into Judaism, which seemed to be the danger, all hope 
in their case would forever be extinguished, and they 
must lie down in bitter and unavailing sorrow. 

In the second place, the Apostle feared on account of 
others. Their apostacy, he knew, would exert a dele- 
terious influence on multitudes, both within and without 
the Church — weakening and discouraging those within, 
and scandalizing and destroying those without. The 
apostacy of Christian professors has, in every age, been 
among the greatest hindrances to the progress of the 
Gospel, and inflicted the deepest wounds upon its friends. 
Was there, then, or was was there not, a ground for the 
Apostle's solicitude, lest some of these Christian Hebrews 
should apostatize from the faith, though he should sup- 
pose this to occur only among those who had never been 
truly born of God ? 

2d. But another and more weighty objection to the 
interpretation we have given, is taken from the Apos- 
tle's declaration — That it is impossible to renew again 
to repentance those who have fallen away ; implying, as 
is supposed, that they had actually been renewed once, 
but could not be renewed the second time. This has 
been urged with great confidence, but, as we believe, 
without sufficient examination. Let the word ^ a x»v, or 
again, be referred to falling away, instead of the renew- 
ing to repentance, as Mr. Pool thinks admissible accord- 
ing to Greek usage, and we have a sense perfectly free 
from embarrassment. The Apostle, in this case, is made 
simply to assert that it is impossible to renew to repent- 
ance, or truly to convert those who, after receiving the 
knowledge of the truth, had again fallen away. Apart 



ON APOSTACY. 



471 



from the exigency of the case, this construction is ren- 
dered the more probable from the fact that the same 
Apostle uses similar language, on a like subject, in his 
Epistle to the Galatians, (Gal. iv. 9.) " But now after 
ye have known God, or rather are known of God, how 
turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements," 
(meaning the Jewish rites and ceremonies,) " whereunto 
ye desire again to be in bondage." How turn ye again? 
Not that they had turned once before, and were now 
turning the second time to those weak and beggarly ele- 
ments. The meaning plainly is, how is it that ye return 
or go back to the state of bondage whence ye came ? 
It is of an apostacy to Judaism that the Apostle speaks, 
both to the Hebrews and to the Galatians, and would it 
be any matter of wonder if he should use language in 
the same sense when speaking precisely of the same 
subject ? But allow us the construction here suggested, 
and the argument urged in the objection is entirely 
swept away. But doubtless we shall be told that the 
adverb ^ a x»v, or again, is designed to qualify the word 
before which it stands, and not the word which imme- 
diately precedes it, so that we are not at liberty to join 
it to which we please. Let me only say, that there are 
forty instances, at least, in the New Testament alone, 
where it is otherwise, and it is otherwise in the parallel 
passage referred to in Galatians ; here the adverb stands 
after the word which it qualifies — a fact of some import- 
ance in this discussion. But we would not rest our in- 
terpretation upon any such di (Terence of grammatical 
usage. Let it be as our opponents would have it, and 
construe the passage as our translators have done, that 
it is impossible to renew again to repentance those who 
fall away. There is si ill an answer to bo made, which, 
to my own mind at least, is convincing. The answer is 
this: that the adverb here is a pleonism, and alters not 
the sense of the verb to renew. Such is the opinion of 



472 



ON APOSTACY. 



Schleusner, of the use of the word in this place, and also 
in that of Galatians to which we have already alluded. 
In both cases, he supposes the sense of the word to be 
complete, without the additional word *«Xiv or again. 
Nor can we suppose that his judgment was warped, on 
this occasion, by a desire to maintain any Calvinistic 
dogma. But without referring to the critical opinions 
or discussions of others, who does not know that in our 
language, at least, we are in the constant habit of using 
the word again merely for the sake of emphasis, without 
implying a repetition of what had been said or done 
before. 

Jesus said to Martha, thy brother shall rise again. I 
know, said Martha, that he shall rise again at the last 
day. Not that he had risen once and was expected to 
rise the second time, but simply that he should rise from 
the dead, or be restored to life. " Blessed be the God 
and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, according to 
his abundant mercy, hath begotten us again to a lively 
hope." Did anybody ever suppose the Apostle meant to 
assert here that Christians were a second time begotten 
to a lively hope, because he says you were begotten 
again ? Or did our translators suppose this 1 for I refer 
more particularly to the language which they employ. 
We all know, indeed, that here was a second generation, 
but not a second generation to a lively hope ; and yet, 
if the word again had the force of repetition, or of second 
in relation to the first, this absurd consequence would 
follow. All agree, however, to consider it as pleonastic, 
or at most, as emphatic, designed to express with a little 
more strength the fact that these Christians were begot- 
ten to a lively hope of an eternal inheritance. And 
where now, let me ask, lies the impropriety of giving 
the same sense to the word again in the passage under 
consideration ? That the Greeks often used their <raXiv 
in a sense similar to this, there can be no reason to doubt. 



ON APOSTACY. 473 

Let this term then be referred even to the renewing 
spoken of in our text, or to the falling away, and it will 
draw after it no such inference as our opponents imagine, 
but leave our interpretation free and unembarassed. 
There are other objections of minor importance, which, 
did time allow, we might take leave to consider. I 
name one or two. It is said that Paul expresses his fear 
of final perdition after he was a Christian, and after he 
had the happiness to know that this was his character, 
which cannot be reconciled with our statement that 
there is no ground to fear any such result with regard to 
the established believer. But I ask how does it appear 
that the Apostle was the subject of any such apprehen- 
sions ? Why, he says " he kept his body under, lest 
after preaching to others he himself should be a cast- 
away/' This is certainly his language, but if we advert 
to the connection we shall instantly perceive that it 
authorizes no such conclusion. " So run I not as un- 
certainly; so fight I not as one that beateth the air; 
but I keep my body under, lest after preaching to others 
I myself should be a cast-away." 

He had a race to run, and he must not stop in the 
midst of his course ; perseverance to the end, he knew, 
was essential to his obtaining the prize. But was he 
doubtful whether he should pesevere and obtain the 
crown ? Nothing can be wider from the fact. " So run I 
not as uncertainly." He had a definite object, and was 
sure of winning it. He had a conflict to sustain, but 
this was neither trifling in itself, nor uncertain in its 
issue. It called forth all his powers, and pointed to a 
victory which he was sure to win j not by his own un- 
aided strength, but by the power of the spirit which 
rested upon him. But notwithstanding his confidence 
of victory, you may Bay, he was afraid of being a cast- 
away, and therefore kept his body under. We do not 
so understand him. " Keeping his body under, lest lie 



474 0N APOSTACY. 

should be a cast-away/' implies no more than using the 
appropriate means to secure an important end. Self- 
denial was necessary to salvation ; but not self-denial 
for a few days, but a perseverance in this duty. Nothing 
short of this would save him from being a cast-away, 
and secure the final approbation of his Judge. This fact 
he fully recognized, and governed himself accordingly. 
And this is all the passage teaches. It neither intimates 
nor admits that he has any doubts or fears as to final 
results. 

A similar objection may be urged, from the language 
of Paul, in Actsxxvii.: "Except these abide in the ship, 
ye cannot be saved." But was this the language of fear ? 
Had he any doubts or misgivings, as to the ultimate sal- 
vation of the ship's crew ? Did he not firmly believe 
God, who had positively and explicitly promised their 
safety ? There seems no reason for doubt. But though 
he expressed and believed that all would be saved, he 
expected this result in the way, or by the means which 
God appointed ; and this way he announces, when he 
says to the centurion and soldiers, " Except these 
(meaning the sailors) abide in the ship, ye cannot be 
saved." The end was certain, but the means to it were 
no less certain ; and both were of God's appointment. 
The end would not take place without the means • and 
this is what he asserts, while, at the same time, he dis- 
tinctly informs them that the continuance of the sailors 
in the ship was an indispensable part of these means. 
There is no evidence that he had any doubts or fears as 
to the final issue. 

But did he not address the fears of others ? This must 
depend upon the confidence which the centurion and 
the soldiers had in Paul's testimony, that none of them 
should ultimately be lost. If they had an unwavering 
assurance of this fact, there is no necessity of supposing 
that they acted from fear, when they cut the ropes, and 



ON APOSTACY. 475 

let the boat fall into the sea ; but only from a prompt 
regard to the Divine intimation that their salvation was 
connected with the seamen's abiding in the ship. The 
probability is, that they had fear, and that they took the 
course which Paul suggested, because they deemed it 
the most prudent, in the perils which surrounded them. 
Little as they knew of the Apostle, they could not well 
be certain, that his announcement of the final safety of 
the ship's crew would be verified. They doubtless 
hoped it would, and thought it best to be governed by 
his counsel. But they could not positively know, until 
the event should decide. Admitting, therefore, that they 
had fears, and that these fears were addressed by the 
Apostle, as the means of their salvation, it furnishes no 
objection to the doctrine advocated in this Lecture, be- 
cause the case here is not parallel with that of true 
believers, provided they have the full assurance of hope, 
and provided, also, the doctrine of the saint's persever- 
ance be true. The centurion and soldiers had no cer- 
tainty as to the issue of their perils, on any condition, and 
might well, therefore, fear the result ; but in the case of 
true believers, known and considered as such, there is 
no ground to fear. By the promise and oath of God, 
they are positively assured of eternal life, and can no 
more doubt of this, than they can doubt the veracity of 
Jehovah. 

We retain, therefore, the undiminished conviction, 
that the language of the Apostle, in the passage which 
stands at the head of this Lecture, can be justly inter- 
preted of those only who are distinguished by their privi- 
leges and attainments ; not of those who believe to the 
saving of the soul. 



LECTUBE XXII. 



ABILITY AND INABILITY 



John vi. 44. — " No man can come to me, except the Father, which hath sent 
me, draw him." 

It is good for us to be humbled — and God has declared 
it to be a leading design of the Gospel, to stain the pride 
of all human glory. Every part of this wonderful scheme, 
in its origin, in its progress, in its consummation, tends 
to exalt God — and to lay man in the dust ! We cannot 
turn to a page of the Gospel record, without finding 
something of this character. Do we glory in the dignity 
or strength of our natural powers, in our acquisitions, or 
in our enjoyments? The Gospel teaches us that we 
have nothing but what we have received, and that it is 
God alone who causeth us to differ. Do we think favor- 
ably of our moral dispositions, or secretly flatter ourselves 
with our virtues ? The Gospel declares that we are, by 
nature, children of wrath and disobedience, having no 
power to please God ; because, with all our good quali- 
ties, we possess nothing in our unrenewed state which 
he dignifies with the name of virtue. Do we think our- 
selves safe because the Word of life is preached to us — 
or because we hear the voice of our Redeemer calling to 
us to come unto him and be saved ? Our Lord con- 
founds this self-deluding imagination, with all the vain 
hopes attached to it, by declaring, as in the words before 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 



477 



us : " No man can come to me, except the Father, which 
hath sent me, draw him." 

But will not many object to this declaration ? Will 
they not say, " If we cannot come to Christ, how are we 
to blame for not coming ? And if we can come, what 
need of being drawn by the Father? Are not these 
things strange and contradictory l" Strange and contra- 
dictory as they may seem, the Divine Teacher will not 
take back his words, nor soften their import. He lays 
down his doctrine with great clearness and strength : 
He speaks with the authority of one who came forth 
from God, and who is God himself. Whatever may be 
our opinions or our feelings, his Word will stand in 
broad and legible characters when the fire, which con- 
sumes all things, shall have dissolved this earth and 
these heavens. It is in vain to contend against what is 
written ; the rock will not be removed out of its place 
for us. But though we may not contend, we may law- 
fully inquire ; and sure I am, the more diligent and hum- 
ble our inquiry, the more cheerfully shall we subscribe 
to what God has revealed. 

In attending to the words before us, I propose, in the 

First place, briefly to consider what it is to come to 
Christ. 

Second. To notice our Lord's assertion, that no man can 
come to him unless drawn by the Father. 

First. What is it to come to Christ ? This is a question 
of great practical importance, and requires often to be 
discussed. To conic to Christ, is but another expression 
for believing on Christ, and is so expounded by our Lord 
in the chapter before us. After stating to the Jews that 
he was the true bread, w liich came down from heaven, 
and which giveth light to the world, he says: "lie (hat 
cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that bdieveth on 
me shall never thirst;' 1 as if coming to him, and believ- 
ing on him, were one and the same thing. And again : 



478 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

" All that the Father giveth to me shall come to me ; 
and he that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out; and 
this is the Father's will that hath sent me, that of all 
which he hath given me, I should lose nothing, but 
should raise it up again at the last day." Which he 
explains by what follows : " And this is the will of him 
that sent me, that every one that seeth the Son, and 
believeth on him, may have everlasting life ; and I will 
raise him up at the last day." He that comes to Christ, 
and he that believes on Christ, performs one and the same 
act, and is entitled to the same promise, the promise of 
eternal life. 

A like use of these terms is found in the following 
chapter : " In the last day, that great day of the feast, 
Jesus stood and cried, saying, " If any man thirst, let 
him come unto me and drink ;" and immediately subjoins, 
" He that believeth on me, as the Scripture hath said, out 
of his belly shall flow rivers of living water ;" alluding 
to the Spirit which they who believe on him should 
receive. 

But what is it to believe on Christ ? It implies, 
1st. That we credit the Divine record concerning 
him ; that he is very God as well as very man ; that 
in this mysterious union, he sustains the office of Media- 
tor, and has performed a glorious work of obedience and 
suffering, by which he hath expiated sin and brought in 
everlasting righteousness, so that God can extend pardon 
to the penitent and believing, without derogating from 
the honor of his government, and in a way which both 
glorifies his attributes, and secures and illustrates the 
rights of his throne ; that as Mediator, Christ is now 
exalted to the right hand of his Father, and sways the 
sceptre of universal dominion ; while as an omnipotent 
Saviour, he proclaims to all, through the medium of the 
Gospel, that whosoever will may come to him, and that 
he that cometh to him he will in no wise cast out. 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 479 

This is the record which God has given of his Son. 
But it is one thing to believe it, as we believe any other 
doctrine or fact, upon creditable testimony * and another, 
to believe it with the heart, or with corresponding dis- 
positions : which leads me to remark, 

2d. That to constitute true faith in the Saviour, there 
must be a cordial approbation of this record. It is with 
the heart that man believeth unto righteousness ; and hence, 
true faith is described as an active moral principle which 
works by love, and gives us the victory over the world. 
The devils believe and tremble, but they have no love. 
They are compelled to yield assent to the truths of the 
Gospel, but they have no approbation of these truths. 
Their hearts are constantly and powerfully set against 
them. So it may be with unrenewed men ; their reason 
and judgment may be gained, while their hearts, with 
all their strength, stand opposed to the Redeemer. If 
this were not the case, why do many, who have no spec- 
ulative doubts of the truths of the Gospel, so utterly 
disregard them ? And why is it that faith is represented 
as the fruit of the Holy Spirit, and one of the evidences 
of a renewed heart ? But we need not urge: — There is 
no truth better established, than that faith is a principle 
to be referred to our moral as well as to our intellectual 
powers, and is a joint exercise of the understanding and 
the heart. They who believe in Jesus, so as to receive 
him, and become united to him, must, of necessity ap- 
prove both of his character and work. But 

3d. To complete our idea of faith in (lie Saviour, there 
must be a cheerful reliance upon him for pardon and 
eternal life. This naturally Hows from assenting to the 
truth of the Divine testimony concerning him, and from 
an approbation of that testimony. Before faith is im- 
parted, we are strangely inclined to rest upon something 
We bare done, or can do, as the ground of our accept- 
ance with God; and nothing is more difficult than to 



4g0 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

remove our self-righteous hopes. But when we are 
brought firmly to believe in the divinity of our Lord, 
and steadily to regard his great work of obedience and 
suffering, as that which lays a foundation for God to be 
just, and yet the justifier of him that believeth ; when 
we are not only persuaded of the truth of this method 
of justification, but in our hearts approve of it, as calcu- 
lated to exalt God and to abase the sinner, we cannot 
but renounce our own righteousness, and cleave to that 
of Christ alone. The language of our hearts will be, 
" Lord, I will make mention of thy righteousness, and of 
thine only." On this I cast all my hopes for pardon and 
acceptance. To this I trust as my covering for guilt, my 
refuge from thy wrath, and my title to eternal life. This 
is faith in Christ, or, in the language of the text, coming 
to him. But the assertion of our Lord, and which we 
are next to consider, is, 

Second. That no man can thus come to him, unless 
drawn by the Father. By the drawing of the Father, is 
intended that work of the Holy Spirit upon the heart, 
which is not only necessary to bring the sinner to Christ, 
but which never fails of this effect. It is a sovereign 
operation, issuing in a new and holy nature, and which 
secures the subjection of the soul to the Redeemer. 

This sentiment is supported not only by the tenor of 
our Lord's reasoning in this place, but by two circum- 
stances which are particularly worthy of notice. The 
first is, that they who are drawn by the Father, and they 
who hear and learn of the Father, are one and the same 
class of persons ; while it is distinctly asserted, that every 
one that heareth and learneth of the Father cometh unto 
him. The second is, that this agency of the Father is, 
in every instance, connected with a joyful resurrection. 
" No man can come to me, except the Father which hath 
sent me draw him ; and I will raise him up at the last day ;" 
implying that all who shall be thus drawn will not only 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 4§| 

come to Christ, but constitute a part of that mystical 
body, which shall never be separated from him as its 
head, but raised up in honor and glory at his second 
coming. 

Let it not be supposed, however, that any constraint 
is put upon the faculties of those who are thus effica- 
ciously drawn to the Saviour. The whole effect of this 
operation consists, not in causing them to act against 
their will, but in making them willing ; agreeably to a 
promise given to the Messiah, "Thy people shall be 
willing in the day of thy power." 

But the principal point before us is, That no man can 
come to Christ, unless he be drawn by the Father. An 
impediment is here supposed, and declared, to be univer- 
sal. Men may differ as to the nature of this impediment, 
and the cause to which it is to be ascribed. They may 
consider it either as a misfortune, or as a crime ; but 
they cannot differ as to the fact, if they credit the testi- 
mony of the Lord Jesus. No man can come to me, except 
the Father, which hath sent me, draw him. Nothing in the 
circumstances, and nothing in the nature of the case, 
limits the assertion to one class of men more than to an- 
other. It was true of the Scribes and Pharisees, who 
were full of their own righteousness, and who could not 
come to Christ while they felt no need of him, and while 
they disliked both his character and doctrine. It was 
true of the Sadducees, that philosophical and reasoning 
sect, whose sceptical hearts and voluptuous lives ren- 
dered them the decided enemies of all true religion. It 
was true of the common people, w bo avowed their friend- 
ship to .Jesus as a prophet and (eaeher come from God, 
and who, from sinister and earthly motives, followed him 

in the wilderness tor days and nights together. It was 
true of that whole generation, however distinguished or 

denominated. Not our of them could come to Christ 

without being drawn by the Father. The same is the 
31 



482 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

case still. Men cannot come to the Saviour without the 
special interposition of Divine power. This is just as 
certain, as that all men are, by nature, in a state of total 
alienation from God ; and that faith is the work, or 
fruit, of the Holy Spirit. 

But why cannot men come to Christ ? 

It is not, we remark in the first place, for the want of 
opportunity. We speak of those who enjoy the light of 
the Gospel, and to whom Christ is made known. As to 
the heathen, who have never heard of his precious name, 
the case is different. Whatever difficulties of a moral 
kind they may labor under, they cannot come to Christ 
for want of opportunity. But all who sit under the sound 
of the Gospel, may come if they will; a thousand and a 
thousand times have they been invited and commanded 
to come, and receive the gift of eternal life. 

Nor, in the next place, is it the want of natural powers : 
By which I mean those powers and faculties which be- 
long to them as men, and which are necessary to consti- 
tute them moral agents, or free and accountable beings 
— such as an understanding, to perceive the difference 
between right and wrong, and a will, to determine their 
own actions in the view of motives.* Destroy either of 
these faculties, and they would no longer be account- 
able, nor their actions subject to any moral regulation. 
Without understanding, they would hold no higher place 
in the scale of being than the birds of the air and the 
beasts of the field ; and without will, or the faculty of 
determining their own actions, they would be incapable 
of freedom, and bound by no law. We want no proof 
of this statement ; the bare mention of the case is suffi- 
cient. 



* Understanding, and will, are here taken in a large and popular sense, and de- 
signed to include both the intellectual and active powers of the mind, as percep- 
tion, reason, memory, conscience, volition and affection. 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 4g3 

The true reason, then, why men cannot come to 
Christ, is not the want of opportunity ; nor yet a defi- 
ciency in their natural powers ; but altogether because 
they are destitute of right moral dispositions, or of a good 
heart. This is the only difficulty in the way of their sal- 
vation ; and yet this is so deep and radical, that, without 
Divine interposition, it will never be removed. 

I have three reasons for saying, that the whole of a 
man's inability to come to Christ consists in the want of 
a heart. 

The first is, That if it consisted in any thing else, God 
would not command him to come ; for, in the whole 
compass of the Divine commands, not an instance can be 
found, where God has required a creature to perform a 
natural impossibility ; that is, a thing for which he has 
no natural faculties, or none which are adequate to the 
thing required. God often, indeed, requires men to do 
things which they have no heart to do; but he never 
did, and never will, require them to do things which 
they could not do, if they had a heart. Christ's saying 
to the sick of the palsy, M Arise, take up thy bed and 
walk," is no exception to this remark. He said to Laz- 
arus, while in his grave, " come forth" — and who can 
doubt that a power went with his word, which, if not 
prior to, was at least co-existent with obligation ? We 
wish this great and important principle of the Divine 
government to be kept in view, that more is never re- 
quired than there is natural power to perform — because, 
on the one hand, it demonstrates that God is a reason- 
able Being, and suits bis commands to the natural capa- 
cities of his creatures; and, on the other, that all diso- 
bedience is an unreasonable violation of a most righteous 
law. 

But another reason we have lor saying that a man has 
no other inability to come to Christ but his want of a 
heart, is, that Christ himself has placed (lie difficulty 



484 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 



here, and here alone. Thus, when he saw how pertina- 
ciously the Scribes and Pharisees rejected his doctrine 
and ministry, he said, "Ye will not come unto me that 
ye might have life!" And again, when he wept over 
Jerusalem, that incorrigible city, and charged her with 
shedding the blood of the prophets, he said, " How often 
would I have gathered thy children together, even as a 
hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye 
would not." Their own unwillingness to become his dis- 
ciples was the only reason which Christ assigned for 
their rejecting him: and hence, the justice of the awful 
sentence which he pronounced, " Behold your house is 
left unto you desolate/ 5 

Our third reason, for saying, that a man has no other 
ability to come to Christ but what consists in the want 
of a heart, is, the obvious fact, that if he had a heart 
nothing could prevent his coming for a single moment. 
The great work of his salvation would instantly be per- 
formed by believing on Him whom the Father hath sanc- 
tified and sent into the world. This is so certain, that it 
is out of our power to conceive of any difficulty remain- 
ing where the heart is once gained. It will be under- 
stood, that we speak of those who live under the light 
of the Gospel, and who have had their duty on this sub- 
ject faithfully expounded. Besides, if it were not so, 
how would the drawing of the Father, which consists in 
giving a right temper, remove the impediment ? How 
could men come if they were drawn, unless being made 
willing to come on God's terms was all that was requi- 
site to make their coming certain ? 

But here a question presents itself. Why is it said, 
that we cannot come to Christ, if, after all, the whole truth 
is, we have no heart to come ; or, which is the same thing, 
that no other impediment lies in the way, but what con- 
sists in the want of a heart ? The question is important, 
and the answer plain. The Scriptures often speak of our 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 435 

being unable to do a thing, when all that is intended is, 
that we are utterly disinclined to do it — so disinclined, 
that it is certain we shall not do it while this disinclina- 
tion remains. Thus it was said of Joseph's brethren, 
that they could not speak peaceably to him. Not that 
they had not as much natural or physical power to speak 
peaceably as contentiously, if they had been so disposed; 
but, being destitute of brotherly affection, and under the 
reigning power of envy and malice, it was incompatible 
with their state of mind to speak peaceably to their bro- 
ther. Their cruel and reproachful language followed as 
naturally and certainly from their envy and malignity, 
as any effect from its cause. Yet every one can see, 
that they labored under no other inability but what con- 
sisted in the perverseness and wickedness of their hearts. 

The Scriptures abound with similar examples. They 
speak of some, whose ears were uncircumcised, and ivho 
could not hearken; of some, who, when they had com- 
mitted abomination, were not at all ashamed, neitlier 
could they blush ; of those who have eyes full of adultery, 
and cannot cease from sin. They declare, that the na- 
tural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, 
and that he cannot know them, because they are spiritu- 
al I v discerned ; — that the carnal mind is at enmity with 
God, is not subject t<> the law of God, neither indeed can 
be; and that they that are in the flesh, cannot please God, 

All this is agreeable to language in common use. We 
often say, that we cannot do a thing, when all we mean 
is, that We arc without all inclination, or utterly averse 
to it. Of one man we say, that he cannot govern his 
temper; of another, that he cannot govern his tongue; of 
a third, that he cannot refrain from his companions or 
his cups ; and, we are in no danger of being misunder- 
stood, when we make use of these expressions. Every- 
body knows that we mean to speak of an inability, which 
consists in the want of right dispositions — not in the 



485 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

want of natural powers ; of an inability which does not 
in the least excuse the subject of it, but which forms the 
very essence of his sin. In like manner we are to un- 
derstand the Scriptures, when they speak of the sinner's 
inability to come to Christ. They adopt a style agree- 
able to common usage, and mean no more than that sin- 
ners are so deeply alienated from Christ — so utterly dis- 
inclined to his service — that they never will come to him 
while in this state of mind ; and that this state of mind 
will continue until it is removed by Divine power. 

There is no need of any abstruse reasoning on this 
subject. You will conceive of the matter justly, if you 
consider that sinners cannot come to Christ, for the same 
reason precisely, that they cannot do anything else while 
their hearts are altogether opposed to it. There is a 
law for mind as well as matter ; and it would be as ab- 
surd to suppose that a man could freely do a thing which 
he had no mind to do, as to go north and south at the 
same instant. Nor does it make any difference as to the 
principle, whether this want of mind be stated or occa- 
sional ; for no man can choose to act against his present 
choice, unless he could choose to do a thing and not do 
it at the same time, which would be a contradiction. 

As to the case before us, it is admitted and maintained 
that sinners have a strong and settled aversion to their duty, 
and that they will never come to the Saviour until this 
aversion be subdued by the sovereign grace of God. Still 
there is nothing in the way, but that stubborn and rebel- 
lious heart, whose language is, "We will not have this 
man to reign over us." 

But I hear it asked, does this accord with experience ? 
Do not sinners often feel a willingness to come to Christ, 
and think they would give worlds to come, if they had 
them, and after all, find that they cannot come, without 
power received from above ? There is not the least 
doubt that this is often their impression. But what is 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 437 

the true state of the case ? Are they willing to come in 
the manner, and for the purposes which God has required ? 
The testimony of our Lord is directly against them. He 
said to sinners, " Ye will not come unto me that ye might 
have life." And again : "How often would I have gath- 
ered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her 
chickens under her wings, and ye would not." And at 
the great and last day, he tells us he will give com- 
mandment concerning all those who shall have finally 
rejected the Gospel. " Bring hither these, mine ene- 
mies, that would not .that I should reign over them, and 
slay them before me." 

The fact is, that awakened sinners, who have a know- 
ledge of the Gospel, very often desire to come to Christ, 
as a deliverer from the wrath of God ; hut they wholly 
mistake their own case, if they suppose that they are 
willing and desirous to come to him as a holy Saviour, 
who is the friend of God as well as the friend of man, 
and whose design is to save his people from their sins, 
and not in their sins ; and to save them in subserviency 
to the Divine honor and glory. In this view of his char- 
acter, " There is no form nor comeliness in him, nor any 
beauty why they should desire him." They have not a 
particle of that holy love which is essential to the act of 
closing with Christ upon the terms of the Gospel. The 
whole of their desires amounts to nothing more than a 
desire to be saved, come what will of God's honor, and 
the interests of his everlasting kingdom. Be their own 
apprehensions, therefore, what they may, we are author- 
ized in saying that they have no hear! to come to Christ ; 
and that, in the want of a 1u<wt, lies all their hindrance 
to this duty. At the same time, we consider it import- 
ant to keep to the language of our hlessed Lord, and to 
say that no man can come to him, without being drawn 
by the Father. This is B language well fitted to express 
both the guilty and helpless state of the sinner, and 



488 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

seems plainly designed to prostrate his self-righteous 
hopes, and to lead him to the power and grace of God 
as' his only remedy. If men abuse this language to ex- 
culpate themselves, they do it at their peril ; it is suffi- 
ciently plain to guide the sincere and humble inquirer ; 
and more God has not promised, nor is more to be ex- 
pected or desired. We conclude this discourse with 
some application. From what has been said, we infer, 
in the 

1st place, that the common excuse of sinners, that 
they are unable to come to Christ, or to comply with the 
terms of the Gospel, is utterly without foundation, and 
will not avail them at the bar of God. If they could 
not come to the Saviour for the want of opportunity, or 
because they are destitute of natural powers, the plea of 
inability might well be urged; an impediment would 
then exist, which could not be consistent with guilt or 
blame. But since the fact is otherwise, since the whole 
of their inability lies in the want of a right heart ; or, 
which is the same thing, in their opposition to the terms 
of the Gospel, all heaven will acknowledge the justice 
of that sentence which consigns them to eternal pains 
for their unbelief. For, reflect a moment : If I cannot 
come to Christ, because I do not love Christ ; if I cannot 
come to Christ, because my heart is, in every view, op- 
posed to him ; this is surely so far from affording me any 
justification, that it is the very foundation of my guilt ; 
and the greater my inability the greater my crime, be- 
cause it manifests a more deep and inveterate opposition 
to the Son of God. 

A rebellious son has left his father's house, and, upon 
a proposal of reconciliation, finds it difficult to return ; 
and his difficulty arises wholly from his disaffection to 
his father's character and government, both of which are 
excellent. He is urged and entreated, and every motive 
set before him which is calculated to operate upon a rea- 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 4g9 

sonable and ingenuous mind. His disaffection, however, 
is so deeply and strongly rooted, that all persuasion is 
vain ; he had rather die in poverty and disgrace, an alien 
from his father's heart, than to return, and take the place 
of an affectionate and dutiful son. In this state of feel- 
ing, his return is impossible ; hut is there a person in the 
world who would attempt to excuse him, by saying he 
could not help it ? 

The principle is the same in the case of the sinner. 
His rebellion against God is, in every circumstance of it, 
unreasonable ; his refusal to return to God, through 
Christ, at the call of the Gospel, is the most unreasona- 
ble and unjustifiable rebellion of all. And shall his ob- 
stinacy in sin be made an excuse for sin ? Shall his 
ingratitude to the Saviour be pleaded as an apology for 
rejecting him ? Nothing can be more irrational. As 
well might the drunkard or the thief allege the strength 
of their evil dispositions as a justification of their crimes ; 
for their inability to a correct and virtuous course arises 
wholly from the prevalence of evil propensities, or from 
the want of good ones. 

We know it is often said, that this is not a parallel 
case — that persons charged with these outbreaking sins, 
could refrain from them if they would — that there is no 
natural necessity which compels them to intemperance or 
dishonesty. But is there any natural necessity which 
compels the sinner to a course of impenitence and un- 
belief? Could he not repent and believe the Gospel if 
lie had a heart so to do? Did ever a man make the 
attempt with a willing heart, and fail? Is not the whole 
difficulty plainly the want of such a heart? "But the 
thief and the drunkard may refrain from their evil courses 

without that thorough change of disposition, which is 

necessary to salvation/ 1 Be it so: — This only shows, 

that their propensities to their particular crimes are not 

so Strong and settled as the sinner's aversion to repent 



490 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

and believe the Gospel. It does not show, that their 
propensities may not, with equal propriety, be pleaded 
as their excuse, and that the greater their propensities 
the less their sin. 

The only reason why persons perplex themselves on 
this subject is, they do not make a distinction in their 
minds between a natural and moral inability — that is, 
between an inability which arises from the want of natu- 
ral powers, and one which arises solely from the want of 
right moral dispositions. The first always excuses from 
obligation ; the last, never. And let no one say, this is a 
distinction frivolous in itself, or hard to be understood. 
It is a distinction founded in the reason and nature of 
things, and is as plain and undeniable as the distinction 
between day and night. There is not a man on earth 
who does not make it every day of his life, if the question 
of duty or obligation so often occur. None of us are so 
bereft of reason as to blame a child for not exercising 
the strength of a man; or a man, because he cannot stop 
the sun in his course, or blot out the stars. And yet, 
there are none of us who would not blame a refractory 
and disobedient child, however obstinate or unyielding 
his temper ; nor should we hesitate to condemn, with 
unabating severity, a malicious and revengeful person, 
though his malice and revenge had become uniform and 
settled principles of action. 

The truth is, that where our own personal conduct is 
not involved, we always go upon the principle, that the 
want of natural or physical strength is no crime ; and 
the want of a good disposition, or the prevalence of a 
bad one, no excuse. But charge home upon a man the 
sin of impenitence and unbelief, and how soon will you 
hear — " I have no heart to these duties, nor can I have, 
till God shall give me a new heart." If you answer, 
" This is your sin — your evil heart of impenitence and 
unbelief is the very thing which condemns you ; it is 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 49 \ 

against this that all the threatenings of the Gospel are 
leveled " — what will be his reply ? " Why, I did not 
make my own heart. It came into the world with me, 
as the fruit of the original apostacy, and how can I help 
it. Let it be regarded as my misfortune, not as my 
crime. If there be any fault in it, it must be placed to 
the account of our first parents, who, by one transgres- 
sion, involved their posterity in the same mighty ruin 
with themselves." But if men are not to blame for their 
hearts, what are they to blame for ? They cannot surely 
be to blame for expressing what is in their hearts ; for, 
by the supposition, there is nothing blameworthy there ; 
and to attach blame to actions, which are merely exter- 
nal, unconnected with the state and disposition of the 
mind, would be as irrational as to attach it to the blow- 
ing of the wind, or the motion of a clock. Besides, if 
men are not to blame for their hearts, how shall the 
justice of God stand vindicated in their future condem- 
nation ? His word is " He that believeth, shall be saved ; 
and he that believeth not, shall be damned." Nay, he 
has declared all unbelievers in a state of condemnation 
already, " because they believe not on the name of the 
only begotten Son of God." He has threatened to pun- 
ish with everlasting destruction, from the presence of 
the Lord and the glory of his power, all who do not 
finally believe and obey the Gospel. But is God un- 
righteous who taketh vengeance ? Dare we load his 
sacred name with tins shocking imputation? And yet, 
there is no other alternative, if we deny that sinners 
justly deserve eternal condemnation for their unbelief. 
We do not wish to have it concealed, (hat man is a 
dependent being, and that snrh is his sinful state by 
nature that he will neither repent nor believe without 
the interposition of almighty grace. Yet, so far is this 
from pleading his excuse, that it only demonstrates the 



492 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

depth of his depravity, and shows it to be capable of 
resisting everything but Divine power. We infer, 

2d, That since the sinner's inability to come to Christ 
is wholly of a moral nature, and, therefore, inexcusable, 
there is no impropriety in exhorting him to this duty, 
notwithstanding his inability. 

It is often said, that there is a great inconsistency in 
exhorting sinners to come to Christ, and admitting, at 
the same time, that they cannot come without the special 
grace of God. An inconsistency there would be, if they 
could not come for the same reason that they cannot 
make a world, or for the want of natural powers; for, 
on this supposition, all obligation would cease. But, as 
there is no other impediment except the want of a heart, 
they are most justly and fitly required to come, and 
bound by all the weight of the Divine authority and of 
their own everlasting interest to obey. This will appear 
plain if we advert a moment to the true foundation of 
obligation. What is it which binds a man to a partic- 
ular action ? It is not that he once had, or now has, a 
disposition to perform it ; but the fitness of the action 
itself, with whatever gives it interest or importance, and 
its falling within the compass of his natural powers. 
These things being supposed, his obligation is complete. 
No matter whether his disposition be for or against it ; 
this is a circumstance never to be brought into the ac- 
count, as having any influence upon the question of obli- 
gation. But suppose it were otherwise ; suppose that 
the want of disposition would diminish our obligation, 
to what degree would it diminish it ? To the same 
degree, no doubt, in which this want should be found ; 
and of course, where a disposition is wholly wanting, 
there all obligation is canceled. But who does not see 
that this is to make our dispositions the measure of our 
duty, and to overturn all law and government at once, by 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 493 

licensing every man to act according to his own inclina- 
tion ? On this supposition there never has been, and 
never can be, any sin in the universe. Every moral 
agent will obey the law under which he is made as long 
as he has a disposition to ob -y, and the moment he 
ceases to have a disposition he ceases to be bound ; the 
law under which he is placed is no longer a law to him, 
and there being no law, there can be no transgression. 

We push the principle into these absurd consequences 
to show that the state of the heart can have no influence 
in determining the law of duty. Duty arises out of other 
circumstances — out of our natural powers, interests and 
relations — and will remain what it is whether the heart 
concur with or oppose its demands. Sinners, therefore, 
may justly be exhorted to come to Christ, noth with- 
standing their utter aversion to this duty, because their 
aversion makes no difference as to the nature of the 
duty itself, nor as to the force with which it binds them. 
They are just as much bound to come to the Saviour, 
and to perform all that the Gospel requires, as if they 
possessed a ready and willing mind ; and though it is 
known beforehand that they will not yield to the Gospel 
call unless moved to it by the sovereign power and grace 
of God, still this alters not the fact that it is their duty 
to yield, nor the propriety of urging them to this duty. 
Why then should not the whole truth be told ? Why 
should we not proclaim in their ears that they are under 
the most sacred obligations to come to Christ that they 
may be saved, and yot that their depravity is such that 
they never will conic and never can conic without the 
special grace of God ; ' 



* It is well known that different sentiments are advanced upon the subject of 
moral obligation. 

FinL Some BOppOM that WC are bound to yield obedience both to the law and 
to the Gospel, because man, in Ins original State, had a moral Or tptritval power 
to obey h - Creator in all things, and because this power was lost to him through 



494 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

This was the way in which our Lord himself treated 
the subject. He exhorted sinners, of all descriptions, to 
come to him that they might have life, and assured them 
that they would certainly and eternally perish, unless 
they obeyed his call. At the same time he did not 
scruple to say, " No man can come unto me except the 
Father, which hath sent me, draw him, and I will raise 
him up at the last day." He condemned the Pharisees 
for their hardened unbelief, and yet he said, " How can 
ye believe, who receive honor one of another ? And why 



his own fault, or by the fall. The maxim commonly repeated on this topic is 
that God has not lost his right to command, though man has lost his power to 
obey. We cannot adopt this sentiment — 

1st. Because it goes upon the principle, that man's having a heart to obey God 
in his original state was essential to his moral agency, and that he would not, and 
could not, be bound to obey God without this. Of course, it was a very wicked 
thing for man to disobey God when he had a good heart ; but would have been no 
sin at all, if his heart had not been good. 

Besides the absurdity involved in this principle, it is difficult to see how sin 
could exist, if man's obligation to be holy depended on his being holy, since the 
obligation and the foundation of it must needs run parallel with each other. And 

2d. Though the Scriptures in various ways recognize the fact, that man was 
made upright, they nowhere ground his obligation to the Divine law upon his 
primitive rectitude, but upon the reasonableness and equity of the Divine law 
itself — upon God's supremacy and transcendent excellence — upon the favors^he 
has conferred upon man, and upon what man has yet to hope or fear from him. 
" And now, Israel, what doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to fear the 
Lord thy God, to walk in all his ways, and to love him, and to serve the Lord 
thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul ; to keep the commandments of 
the Lord, and his statutes, which I command thee this day for thy good ? Behold, 
the heaven and the heaven of heavens is the Lord's thy God ; the earth also, with 
all that therein is. Circumcise, therefore, the foreskin of your heart, and be no 
more stiff-necked ; for the Lord your God is God of gods, and Lord of lords — a 
great God, a mighty and a terrible, which regardeth not persons nor taketh reward. 
He doth execute the judgment of the fatherless and the widow. He is thy praise, 
and he is thy God." Deut. x. 12, 13, 14, 16, &c. 

3d. On this subject it is evident that the voice of conscience accords with the 
testimony of Scripture. No man condemns himself, when he has broken the Di- 
vine law, upon the principle that his progenitor, six thousand years ago, had a 
disposition to obey God, but lost it. This is a consideration too remote to strike 
the eye of conscience. Conscience points him to the law itself as holy, just and 
good, and pronounces the verdict, guilty, on the ground that he has done that 
which he knew ought not to be done, and which he was bound by many weighty 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 495 

do ye not understand my speech ? Even because ije 
cannot receive my word." 

The same mode of presenting this subject is observable 
in the prophets. Ezekiel says to the rebellious house 
of Israel, " Cast away from you all your transgressions 
whereby you have transgressed, and make you a new 
heart and a new spirit ; for why will ye die, O house of 
Israel V At the same time he intimates that they would 
certainly continue in their guilty course till God should 
undertake for them and renovate them by his power. 
This is implied in the promise, which he delivers in 
God's name : " Then will I sprinkle clean water upon 



considerations to avoid — considerations distinct from his own moral state, or the 
moral state of Adam before he fell. Conscience has no occasion to travel back 
to years beyond the flood, to find a solid reason for self-condemnation and re- 
proach. It has only to measure our actions by the law of duty expressed in the 
Word of God, or written on the table of the heart. Certainly, it must be thus 
with the consciences of the heathen, who know nothing of the primitive state of 
man, and yet whose thoughts the meanwhile accuse or excuse one another. 

Second. Others suppose that men are bound to obey the Gospel, because God 
has given them grace whereby their depravity is so far counteracted, " that the 
conditions of salvation become possible, and may, therefore, most justly be re- 
quired." But if grace be the ground of obligation, it is no more grace but debt ; 
it is that which must be imparted to make it just in God to require obedience from 
the sinner. Besides, if the sinner, in consequence of his depravity, owe nothing 
to God — as must be admitted, if depravity destroy obligation — his depravity be- 
comes no depravity, he must, therefore, be guiltless. God has nothing to demand 
oi him, and has nothing to render to God. Being innocent in the sight of his 
judge, what need of a Saviour, or of grace through him ? 

Third. There are those, again, who found obligation, not upon what man once 
was, antecedent to the fall, nor upon what lie is now supposed to be, in conse- 
quence of grace received, but upon the promise thai he BbaU receive grace if he 
carefully attend to the QM oi means. This, equally with the two former schemes, 
supposes that depravity excuses from obligation. For if no grace be received, and 
none promised, man, according to this opinion! is not bound ; and why is he not 
bound, but because his depravity is supposed to render obedience impracticable, 
and therefore not obligatory. 

This opinion also supposes a promise made tO the actions of unconverted men 

nowhere, to be found in the Scriptures j that is, that God has engaged to grant 
converting grace npon the diligent endeavors of persons who are yet in the flesh, 
and who, he has expressly assured us, arc incapable of pleasing him. 'Flos topic 

is resumed in a subsequent part of the sermon. 



496 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 



you and you shall be clean : a new heart also will I give 
you, and a new spirit will I put within you ; and I will 
take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will 
give you an heart of flesh ; and I will put my Spirit within 
you and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall 
keep my judgments to do them/' 

There is no danger in following these examples in pre- 
senting Divine truth to mankind. He wiio was truth 
itself could not err, and they who spake by his Spirit 
must have spoken according to his will. 

3d. If the sinner's inability to come to Christ be 
wholly of a moral nature, then it is fit not only to exhort 
him to come to Christ, but to come without delay. This 
is his next or immediate duty ; he cannot neglect it an- 
other moment, without violating a solemn command, and 
incurring enormous guilt. The reason of this is not dif- 
ficult to perceive. There is nothing in the way of his 
coming to the Saviour but a depraved heart ; and as this 
can have no effect in releasing him from obligation, 
the command to believe reaches him at once, and his 
obligation is full and perfect, notwithstanding his de- 
pravity. He is bound to come to Christ immediately, for 
the same reason that he is bound to come at all. 

Plain as this deduction seems, many are not aware of 
it, but treat the subject as if the sinner's obligation to 
repent and believe rested on a promise of spiritual strength 
to be received in consequence of attending to certain 
means. That is, they suppose that he is not bound to 
repent and believe the Gospel now, but only to use 
means that he may hereafter repent and believe. But 
why not repent and believe novj ? No other reason 
can be given, but that the state of the sinner's heart is 
incompatible with these duties. Are these duties there- 
fore to be suspended for the time being, and something 
else placed in their stead ? This is a doctrine very agree- 
able || the sinner's heart — because it admits that he is 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 497 

not bound to perform any duty in a spiritual manner 
while unrenewed. This is what he loves to hear when 
disturbed by the spirituality of the Divine law, or when 
urged to an immediate compliance with the demands of 
the Gospel. It shifts from his conscience a heavyweight 
of obligation, and leads him to hope that through his own 
unsanctified endeavors he shall, sooner or later, obtain 
the gift of the Spirit and the promise of eternal life. It 
is, in effect, saying to him, Since you cannot repent and 
believe, you must do as well as you can; since you cannot 
love God, you must endeavor to love him ; since you can- 
not give him your heart, you must keep up a fair exte- 
rior in the use of means, and eventually he will bestow 
his grace upon you. How shocked should we be to hear 
this language from the great God himself; because we 
should instantly perceive, not merely relaxation, but an 
absolute abandonment of his law, the first and great 
commandment of which is : " Thou shalt love the Lord 
thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and 
with all thy might ? What a justification would it be 
of the sinner's rebellion against God, by admitting that 
he is not bound to render to him the sincere and une- 
quivocal homage of his heart ? But no such language 
ever proceeded from Jehovah ; and, with reverence be 
it spoken, no such language ever can proceed from him 
without renouncing his government over the world. All 
his commands are spiritual, and have an immediate re- 
spect to the heart. Nothing is done which lie approves, 
or which he makes the condition of his favor, but what 
Hows from right affections, and is of the nature of true 
holiness, or real conformity to his law. What then is to 
become of the sinner who lias no heart to repent and 
believe — who is without spiritual strength, and without 
a promise that lie shall receive strength, on the condi- 
tion of anything which he will ever perform In the unre- 
newed state ? The answer is not difficult. He will 
32 



498 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

inevitably perish, if Almighty grace do not interpose. 
He is in God's hands, as the clay is in the hands of the 
potter, and it depends on his sovereign will, whether he 
shall be drawn to the Saviour by the effectual operations 
of the Holy Spirit, or left to reject Christ, and to bring 
upon himself a just and aggravated punishment. 

But in this perilous condition, are there no advices or 
counsels to be given ? None, I answer, which' shall be 
a compromise between Jehovah and the sinner — none, 
which shall lower the standard of the Divine commands 
to the level of the carnal mind — and which shall imply a 
promise, that if the sinner continue to attend upon the 
means of grace with such a heart as he has, God will, in 
the end, become propitious, and grant him the renewing 
operations of his Spirit* We find nothing which ap- 
proaches to this in the preaching of Jesus Christ, or of 
his apostles. They laid before men their duty and the 
motives which urged their compliance ; they expounded, 
reasoned, exhorted and entreated ; and if sinners would 
not hear, they left it upon their consciences, that their 
guilt would be aggravated in proportion to the light and 
advantages they enjoyed. They did not conceal that 
men are dependent for right affections on the influence 
of the Holy Spirit ; they ascribed to him every good 
thought and desire. But they did not, therefore, put 
their hearers upon a course of heartless obedience, with 
the promise, that their successive endeavors should be 
rewarded with new strength, until they should be en- 
abled to serve God with sincerity. They directed to 
such things, only, as implied the exercise of a right tem- 
per, and which connected with them the promise of eter- 
nal life. 

Would we tread in their steps, we must call upon the 
sinner to pause, and reflect upon the criminal and dan- 
gerous course he is in — to open his eyes to his real char- 
acter, as a wanton and presumptuous rebel against God 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 499 

— to search the Scriptures, and receive instruction wher- 
ever it may be found, watching daily at wisdom's gates, 
and waiting at the posts of her doors. We must direct 
him to cry after knowledge, and to lift up his voice for 
understanding — to worship God both in secret and in 
public — and earnestly to importune the gift of the Holy 
Spirit with all the blessings of life and salvation. But 
we have no authority for saying that he may perform 
these duties with an impenitent and unbelieving heart, 
or that God will accept him if he does. 

All this, it may be said, brings him no relief, for his 
great difficulty is, that he has no heart to perform any 
duty in a spiritual manner. Why is he not told how to 
get a heart ? In what page of the sacred volume shall 
we look to find such a direction ? The Scripture re- 
quires the sinner to possess a right heart — but does not 
prescribe a course of means by which it is to be obtained; 
nor could such a course be prescribed without yielding 
to him an important point by admitting that he is not 
bound immediately to repent and believe the Gospel. 
Should this be thought discouraging, whom, let me ask, 
will it discourage ? None but those who either want 
an excuse for doing nothing, and perhaps are altogether 
idle, or those who are secretly trusting to a round of un- 
holy duties, as the means of obtaining the Divine favor. 
The forme?' read their condemnation in the character 
and fate of the slothful servant, who hid his Lord's money, 
on the principle that lie served a hard master, and that 
it was impossible to please him. The latter are com- 
passing themselves about with sparks of their own 
kindling, and the sooner they are discouraged with their 
labors the bolter. It is linn 4 for them to see how the 
unifier stands between them and God — that they are 

utterly polluted and helpless, and that if sovereign grace 
do not Interpose t<> slay the enmity of their hearts, they 

will not only persevere in their opposition to Jehovah 



500 ABILITY AND INABILITY. 

till they die, but remain his enemies through eter- 
nity. 

Have we, then, no more hope of the salvation of those 
who attend upon the means which God uses with sin- 
ners, than of those who neglect them ? Certainly we have ; 
but this hope does not arise, in any degree, from their 
approximating to holiness, nor from a promise made to 
the performances of unsanctified men — but from what 
occurs in the course of Divine providence, and from the 
natural presumption that God will smile upon his own 
institutions. There is more hope for a man under Gos- 
pel light, than for one sitting in pagan darkness — for one 
well instructed in evangelical truth, than for one in a 
state of ignorance — for him who is moral, than for him 
who is debauched — for him who statedly attends upon 
the institutions of religion, than for him who neglects 
them — for him who is awakened to a lively sense of his 
lost and guilty state by nature, than for him who, not- 
withstanding the most faithful admonitions, slumbers in 
security. 

This hope may, and ought to be, a motive with men, 
to avoid those things which threaten their eternal inter- 
ests, and to pursue those which increase the probability 
of their salvation. Nor can we perceive any evil in pre- 
senting this hope, provided nothing be said to weaken a 
sense of obligation to an immediate compliance with the 
terms of the Gospel, or which shall exhibit a stronger 
connection than the Word or providence of God will 
justify, between the circumstances of the sinner and the 
salvation of his soul. 

4th. If none come to Christ but those who are drawn 
by the Father — and all come who are thus drawn 
— it is manifestly the grace of God alone, which makes 
the difference between those who embrace and those 
who reject the Gospel, according as it is written, " It is 
not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of 



ABILITY AND INABILITY. 501 

God that showeth mercy." Nor is it less certain, that 
none will embrace the Gospel but those whom God has 
purposed or decreed should embrace it. Men embrace 
the Gospel in consequence of Divine interposition ; but 
if God interpose, he intended to interpose, and that from 
everlasting; for he can have no new intention. The 
conversion of a sinner to Christ is pre-eminently his 
own work — "And known unto God are all his works 
from the foundation of the world : He worketh all 
things according to the counsel of his own will." 

5th. How rich is that grace which triumphs over the 
opposition of the human heart, and brings the soul to 
the Redeemer. It was great mercy which provided a 
Saviour, and freely offered salvation in his name ; great 
mercy which continued this offer from year to year, not- 
withstanding the unkindness or contempt with which it 
was received ; but, O believer ! had mercy stopped here, 
thou hadst never been united to Jesus ; nor indulged the 
pleasing hope of seeing his face, and of rejoicing in his 
presence forever. That hardened heart which so long 
resisted his calls would still have resisted. It was the 
secret energy of the Holy Spirit which enlightened thy 
darkness, subdued thine enmity, and made thee a willing 
captive to Him who had previously bought thee with his 
blood. He loved thee with an everlasting love, and 
therefore, by his loving kindness has he drawn thee. O 
let not this love, this discriminating love, be forgotten ; 
live for him who died for thee ; for him, who, of his own 
self-moving goodness, has transfused his blessed spirit 
into thy bosom, and made thee heir of that glory which 
shall never fade away.— Amen. 






O 






in, -/■ 



* «G 



W 










./' 



-0* 





.V V • v ° * 



'^o^ 

^ U 







\0° 



^- ' * 8 



c^ -i a v c^ - or 






Oo 











; 






A ->. 

Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Oct. 2004 






a\ 



:a 



Neutralizing agent: Magnes._.., 
Treatment Date: Oct. 2004 
p 

Z PreservationTechnoloqies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



%. ' J> 






i V 













*> 






V s 























LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

III 




013 192 782 4 






■HUH 



s 1 1 H 

■ I 










■ 



^r 



